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THE CHILDREN'S CRUSADE 



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BY 



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GEORGE ZABRISKIE GRAY 



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BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 

1898 



Copyright, 1870, 

By GEORGE ZABRISKIE GRAY. 

Copyright, 1898, 

By KATE FORREST GRAY. 

All rights reserved. 

18340 




nVO COPIES RECEIVED. 



H-wLiVClI- 



2nd COPY, 
1833. 

The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A. 
Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co. 



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X9 

Buir* Hie vide perigrinacionem puerorum et qualiter per 

incantaciones sunt decepti. 
Illis temporibus stupendum quid crevit. 
Mundoque mirabilis truffa inolevit. 
Nam sub boni specie malum sic succrevit. 
Arte quidem magica ista late sevit. 
2^u5r» Hie est carmen quod ubique cantabatur 
Nycolaus famulus Christi transfretabit. 
Et cum innocentibus Jerusalem intrabit. 
Mare siccis pedibus securus calcabit. 
Juvenes et virgines caste copulabit. 
Ad honorem Domini tanta perpetrabit. 
Quod pax jubilacio Deo laus sonabit. 
Paganos et perfidos omnes baptizabit. 
Omnis in Jerusalem carmen hoc cantabit. 
Pax nunc christicolis Christus proximabit. 
Et redemptos sanguine mire collustrabit. 
Nycolai pueros omnes coronabit. 
Mufir. Talis devocio ante hec non est audita. 
Aures cunctis pruriunt virgines ornantur. 
Annos infra sedecim evangelizantur. 
Concurrentes pueri certant ut sequantur. 
Et rumare viderant casso consolantur. 
Ungarus Theutunicus Francus sociantur. 
Boemus Lombardicus Brittoque conantur. 
Flandria Vestfalia omnes federantur. 



VI 

Friso cum Norwagia cuncti conglobantur. 

Prurit pes et oculus pueros venantur. 

lUi de Brundusio virgines stuprantur. 

Et in arcum pessimum passim venumdantur. 

Risum luctus occopat digne lamentantur. 

Plorant matres ut Rachel nati morti dantur. 

Vanitates hauriunt pueri fraudantur. 

( Vide Appendix C.) 



PREFACE 



There are some minor episodes of history 
that have not received the attention which they 
seem to merit. Historians have been too much 
occupied with events of greater importance, to 
stop and explore these by-ways as they passed 
them. The same reason led the chroniclers of 
the times to preserve no more than scanty de- 
tails concerning them, and consequently these 
worthies often dismiss with a few words inci- 
dents that have more interest than others to 
which they give many a dreary page. 

This has been the case with the transaction 
to which this volume is devoted. Although 
pertaining to a sphere so interesting as the 
child-life of other and remote days, yet it has 
been almost forgotten. Many are not aware of 
its occurrence. Some have regarded it as a 
myth. 



Vlll PREFACE 

It is generally referred to, with varying full- 
ness, in works that treat of the Crusades, but 
not always with accuracy of statement. The 
most copious accounts are given in Raumer's 
" Geschichte der Hohenstaufen," Herter's " In- 
nocent III.," Menzel's "Deutschland," Wilken's 
" Kreuzziige," Haken's " Gemalde der Kreuz- 
ziige," Sporschild's "Kreuzziige," "L'Esprit 
des Croisades," by Mailly, " Histoire des Croi- 
sades," by Michaud, " Influence des Croisades," 
by Choiseul d'Aillecourt, Mill's " History of the 
Crusades," and Hecker's *' Child Pilgrimages." 
Many authors, in whose writings we would ex- 
pect some reference to the subject, are entirely 
silent concerning it. 

But, otherwise than with the brevity neces- 
sary to a casual mention in the course of his- 
torical narratives, this theme has never been 
treated. As far as I can ascertain, it has never 
been the subject of a volume, nor have the ori- 
ginal materials been thoroughly explored and ex- 
hausted. A small Sunday-school book was pub- 
lished several years ago, called "The Crusade 
of the Children," but it was merely a brief 
fiction based upon the event. 



PREFACE ix 

It is therefore because the field was untrod- 
den, and because I thought that the story told 
in its completeness would possess interest, that 
I have written this book. 

As regards the Chronicles that refer to the 
event, a list is given of all that have yet been 
found by others and by myself. For their 
trustworthiness, it is sufficient for me that 
such writers as Wilken, Herter, and Michaud 
rely fully upon their statements. In the notes 
I have not thought it necessary to give the 
particular source of each fact in the course of 
the narrative, but have only done so in the 
cases of those of prominence, or of those that 
are peculiar. 

Hecker regards it and treats it as one of 
the "epidemics of the Middle Ages" of which 
he writes. They who wish to view it in that 
light can consult his pages. It may seem to 
some that to regard it as such, and to call it by 
such a name, is to open the door for the admis- 
sion into the list of diseases of many transac- 
tions that the world has been wont to view, not 
in that way, but rather as the manifestations of 



X PREFACE 

the universal " epidemics " of human ignorance 
and folly. 

I have sought to write in sympathy with the 
little ones whose fortunes are followed in this 
strange movement. It has been difficult to 
restrain feelings produced by a vivid realization 
of their chequered experiences. While I pored 
during several months over the story, in quaint 
and dusty Chronicles, where even monkish Latin 
warms with its theme, it sometimes seemed as if 
the children's songs were in the air, and their 
banners in the breeze. 

I hope that the attractiveness which the 
theme has had in my eyes may not have caused 
me to overestimate too much the interest it 
may have for others, and that they who read 
this volume may find in its perusal some of the 
pleasure which accompanied its composition. 

G. Z. G. 

Trinity Rectory, Bergen Point, N. J., 
May, 1870. 



Some verbal changes have been made since 
the first edition. 
1871. 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

Chronicles consulted and quoted xiii 

CHAPTER I. 

Introductory. 

I. The Holy Land i 

II. State of the Cause of the Crusades 6 

III. Contemporaneous Events lo 

IV. The Condition of the People i6 

CHAPTER II. 
The Rising in France. 

I. Cloyes and its Hero 24 

II. St. Denys 33 

III. The Minor Prophets 39 

IV. Opposition and its Results 49 

CHAPTER III. 

The Gathering of the German Children ... 57 

CHAPTER IV. 
The Army of Nicholas. 

I. To the Alps 72 

II. The Passage of the Mont Cenis 84 

III. Genoa 94 

IV. To Rome 103 

CHAPTER V. 
The Army with the Unknown Leader . . . .110 



,X11 CONTENTS 

CHAPTER VI. 
The Return of the German Children . . . .124 

CHAPTER VII. 
The Journey of the French Children. 

I. The Gathering at Vendome 131 

11. The Journey to Marseilles 136 

III. Marseilles and the Good Merchants 148 

IV. The Embarkation 160 

CHAPTER VIII. 
The Tidings from beyond the Sea. 

I. The Long Suspense 169 

II. The Departure from Marseilles 177 

III. The Shipwreck on the Isle of Falcons, or San 

Pietro 183 

IV. The Captives of Bujeiah 190 

V. Alexandria and Bagdad 199 

VI. Conclusion of the Story of the French Children 209 

CHAPTER IX. 
The Fate of the Leaders and of the Betrayers 214 

CHAPTER X. 

ECCLESIA NOVORUM InNOCENTIUM. 

I. The Church . . . . 224 

II. The Ruin 228 

Appendices 233 



CHRONICLES, ETC., CONSULTED AND 
QUOTED 



1. Caffari, Annates Genuenses, ah anno iioi. Annals of Ge- 

noa, by Caffari, a statesman of the time. To be found 
in Muratori's collection of chronicles, called " Rerum 
Italicarum Scriptores." 

2. Sicardi, Episcopi Cremonensis Chronicon. The Chronicle 

of Sicardi, Bishop of Cremona. Also in Muratori's col- 
lection. 

3. Godefridi Monachi Sancti Pantaleonis apud Coloniam Agrip- 

pinam Annales, ab anno 1162 ad annum 1237. The An- 
nals of Godfrey, Monk of St. Pantaleon in Cologne. 
Found in the collection called " Rerum Germanicarum 
Scriptores," edited by Struve. 

4. Alberti Abbatis Stadensis Chronicon a condita orbe usque ad 

annum Chrisii 1256. Chronicle of Albert, Abbot of 
Stade, from the Creation to a. d. 1256. Also in " Re- 
rum Germanicarum Scriptores." 

5. Chronicon Ccenobii Mortui Maris. Chronicle of the Monas- 

tery of the Dead Sea, from a. D. 1113 to A. D. 1235. 
Found in " Recueil des Historiens des Gaules et de la 
France." 

6. Ation. Chron. Rhythmicum. Anonymous Rhythmical 

Chronicle. In Ranch's " Rerum Austriacarum Scripto- 
res." Probably written by Jo. Benedictus Gentilotus. 

7. Roger Bacon, Opus Majus. 

8. Chron. Alberici Monachi Trittm Fontium Leodinensis Dijo- 



XIV CHRONICLES 

cesis. Chronicle of Alberic, Monk of Liege. Found in 
the " Accessiones Historicae " of Leibnitius, vol. ii. 

9. Roger de Wendover' s Chronicle, commonly identified with 

that of Matthew of Paris, of which it is a sequel. 

10. Fragment by an unhtown author, prefixed to the Chronicle 

" Alberii Argejttijtensis," found in the collection of Chris- 
tian-Urstisius, called " Germaniae Historici Illustres." 

11. Chron.anon. Laudunense. Anonymous Chronicle of Laon. 
Found in " Recueil des Historiens des Gaules et de la 
France." 

12. Bibliotheca Mundi, Vincentii Burgundi Prcesulis Bellova- 
censis, etc. Library of the World, by Vincent, Bishop 
of Beauvais. Vol. iv., which is called Speculum Histo- 
riale. 

13. Chron. Sythiense Saitcti Bertini. Chronicle of St. Bertin, 
by Jean d'Ypres, or Johannes Yperius. In '* Recueil des 
Historiens des Gaules et de la France." 

14. Chron. Sancti Medardi Suessuonis, Chronicle of St. Me- 
dard's Monastery at Soissons. 

15. Lamberti Parvi, Leodinensis Sancti yacobi Monasterii Mo- 

nachi Chron. Chronicle of Lambert of Liege, continued 
by another monk, Rainer, by whose name it is often 
called. Found in the collection compiled by Edmund 
Martin and Ursinus Durand, called " Veterum Scripto- 
rum Monumentorum, historicorum, dogmaticorum, mo- 
raUum amplissima Collectio." 

16. Gesta Trevirortim, in same collection. 

17. Thomce Cantipratani, Bonum universale de Apibus. 
Thomas of Champre. 

18. Ogerii Panis Chronicon. Chronicle of Ogerius. In Mu- 
ratori's collection. 

19. Petri Bizari, Senatus Populiqiie Gemiensis Historia. His- 

tory of the Senate and People of Genoa, by Peter Bizarus. 

20. Magnum Chronicon Belgicum. The Great Belgian Chron- 

icle. Found in Pistori's Collection of German Writers. 

21. Fasciculus Temporum. In the same collection. 



CHRONICLES XV 

22. Gesta Dei per Francos. Deeds of God by the French. '^''"^ 

23. Chronicon Argenteum. The Silver Chronicle. In Mura- 
tori's collection. 

24. John Massefs Chronicle. 

25. Anony77ious Chronicle of Strasburg. 

26. Uberii Folieti Chron. Chronicle of Hubertus Folietus. 

27. Chron. Senoniense. Chronicle of the Senones. 

28. Chro7iicon de Civitate Januetise, ed. a Fratre Jacobo de Vo- 
ragine. Chronicle of Genoa, by James of Vorago, or 
Jacques de Vitry. In Muratori. 

29. Chron. Rotomagense. Chronicle of Rouen. 

30. Ano7i. Chron. Atistriacum. Anonymous Austrian Chroni- 

cle. 

At least the first six Chronicles are contemporaneous, that 
is, they contain information written by persons who lived at 
the time of the Children's Crusade. The others were com- 
piled at later dates (nearly all within a short time after the 
event), and their value is due to the fact that their materials 
were drawn from other contemporaneous documents that now 
are either destroyed or else cannot be found. 

As editions of these works vary, it is unnecessary to state 
the volumes or pages where reference is made to the Chil- 
dren's Crusade. It will be found by simply turning to the date 
of the transaction, as the Chronicles narrate the events of each 
year consecutively. I found many of the authoriti^ in the 
Astor Library. Some of them I consulted in the Imperial 
Library in Paris. Several had never been explored. 

Other authors whose names are given in the notes are 
writers who have, in recent times, treated of the Crusades or 
kindred subjects. 



THE CHILDREN'S CRUSADE 

CHAPTER I 

INTRODUCTORY 



The Holy Land 

The Holy Land ! What manifold associa- 
tions cluster around that little spot of earth on 
which break the blue waves of the Mediterra- 
nean when they reach its easternmost limit ! 
Memories the most sacred, the most tender, 
and the most thrilling, cause the very name 
to call up before us a vista of the past such as 
no other land possesses. As we muse on the 
sound of the words, we hear the Singer's harp 
and the Prophet's lyre, and we catch echoes of 
the Apostle's eloquence ; there rise up memo- 
ries of men and women whose stories are the 
world's best treasure ; the forms of Abraham, 
of Samuel, of David, and of Isaiah sweep by 
in majesty, and, after them, lovelier and loftier 
than all, we see the figure of that One for whom 



2 INTRODUCTORY 

they looked. For that land, and it alone, has 
felt the footsteps of Incarnate Deity ! 

What a history that land has seen of peace 
and of turmoil, of freedom and of bondage, of 
glory and of shame ! Across it has the tide of 
conquest rolled in every age; its plains have 
been enriched by the blood of many a different 
race. It lies before us, as we think of it, now 
in the sunshine of the days when Ruth gleaned 
in its fields, now in the splendor of Solomon's 
rule, and then we see its condition portrayed 
in that medal which the Roman victors struck, 
where, at the foot of a lonely palm, a weeping 
maiden sits, and beneath which we read the 
mournful words : yudea Capta. 

How many hearts have loved that land ! 
Patriotism in its most ardent forms has never 
equaled the devotion that Israel's children 
have felt for Israel's soil. When within its 
borders, they have loved it with an intensity 
that made each hill a shrine, and the thought 
of leaving it, like the thought of death. When 
absent from it, in their repeated exiles, their 
hearts have gone out to its mountains and its 
valleys, its skies and its streams, with yearnings 
that could not be expressed. Wherever they 
have sojourned, it has still been to them their 
only home, and to-day, in every clime, a scat- 



THE HOLY LAND 3 

tered nation loves it of all lands alone. They 
dream of the promised time when it shall be 
their own abode again, and, when their lives 
are closing, they journey thither with tottering 
limbs, to die, because they think the sleep of 
the grave is sweeter there. 

How many feet have sought that land ! The 
pathways to it from every part of earth have 
been worn by the staves and the footsteps of 
pilgrims. In the front we see the venerable 
form of him who, " when he was called to go 
out into a place which he should after receive 
for an inheritance, obeyed, and he went out, 
not knowing whither he went." Thence, down 
to these busier times, stretches the long pro- 
cession of those that have traveled far, to 
kneel and to dwell on soil that, to the pious 
heart, is like no other soil. And as it has been 
in the past, it will be in the future. Oldest 
shrines may be deserted, superstition may pass 
away, but the sense of reverence and the power 
of association will never so far perish that they 
who have the Bible will no longer care to visit 
the Holy Land. 

Poets may tell us of romance, but there is 
no romance like that of this consecrated Pales- 
tine, — consecrated by the lives that have illu- 
mined it, by the love that has been lavished on 



4 INTRODUCTORY 

it, by the blood that has been shed for it, above 
all, by the Cross once reared in it ! What land 
is like that ancient Canaan, which, so fair and 
so cherished, has given us all a name for 
Heaven ! 

But of all the associations linked with that 
magic name, none are more strange than those 
of the wars for its liberation from the Moslem. 
The Crusades alone would endue any land with 
a deathless interest. 

When the followers of the false Prophet had 
overcome its feeble defenders, pilgrims still 
sought Palestine, undeterred by the perils they 
might meet. But as years passed by, they were 
more and more oppressed and maltreated, so 
that they who returned brought back to Europe 
sad tales of suffering of the believers there, 
and of increasing desecration of the spots con- 
nected with the life and the passion of Imman- 
uel. At length, in the eleventh century, these 
reports became so numerous and so exciting, 
that there ran throughout Christendom a thrill 
of indignation. Then Peter the Hermit raised 
his voice to plead for the deliverance of those 
sacred scenes, and the response came from 
every nation of Europe. Thus began those 
wonderful wars, in which, with a devotion and 
persistency that are unique in history, host 



/ THE HOLY LAND 5 

after host assembled, fought, and died. Even 
as the billows of the sea roll, one after another, 
against a rocky coast, so did the noblest and 
best of Europe's life, for more than two hun- 
dred years, rush against the exhaustless ranks 
of Asiatic power, and as vainly. At times 
success seemed near at hand, but the heathen 
front rolled back the tide, and stood defiant 
and unmoved at last. 

It is with an episode in this war of ages that 
we are now to be concerned. We are to tell 
how, in this mighty movement, there was a 
wave of child-life, to describe the part in that 
undying love for the Holy Land and in the 
weary seeking of its shores, that has been 
taken by children's hearts and by children's 
feet. 

But before entering upon the theme, it would 
be well to prepare the way by glancing at 
certain points that suggest themselves ; and, 
first of all, let us review the history of the 
Crusades, in order that we may perceive the 
causes which led to the arousing of the young 
to interest themselves in the struggle — 

" To chase these pagans in those holy fields, 
Over whose acres walk'd those blessed feet, 
"Which eighteen hundred years ago were nail'd 
For our advantage to the bitter cross." 



6 INTRODUCTORY 

II 

State of the Cause of the Crusades 

During eighty-eight years Palestine had been 
in the hands of the Crusaders, and Christian 
kings had ruled in Jerusalem. But this episode 
of romance and of glory was ended when, in 
1 187, Saladin routed the Christian armies at 
Tiberias, after which all the land was subdued, 
save a few strongholds over which there still rose 
the banner of the Crusaders. This catastrophe 
awakened grief and consternation throughout 
Europe, and at once the third Crusade was 
undertaken by the Germans under Barbarossa 
and the English under Coeur de Lion. The 
exploits of the two allied armies revived for a 
while the drooping hopes of the Christians, but 
soon there arose perfidy at home and treason in 
the camp. These did as much to render fruit- 
less the achievements of Richard as did the 
power and skill of Saladin. Consequently, at 
the end of the campaign the Crescent waved 
as defiantly as ever over the land of Israel. 

The fourth Crusade, from 1195 to 1198, led 
by Henry VI. of Germany, was equally a failure. 
There were gained some brilliant victories, but 
dissensions divided the armies, and at last a 



STATE OF THE CAUSE OF THE CRUSADES 7 

truce was made with the Mohammedans. It is 
true that these victories made the Crusaders 
masters of the sea-coast, but, when the armies 
departed, the Christian king found himself in 
possession of cities which he was unable to 
garrison, and which he felt could be held only 
by the sufferance of the enemy. 

The fifth Crusade, preached in 1198, was per- 
verted by the avarice of Venice and the ambi- 
tion of its leaders, to the conquest of Constan- 
tinople. The knights, plunged in the luxury 
of that city, heeded not the appeals from Pales- 
tine, but allowed the besieged and suffering, for 
whose rescue they had enlisted, to linger and 
die without an effort in their behalf. Fortress 
after fortress was wrested from the Christians, 
until' at length there remained to the king, 
John of Brienne, but the city of Ptolemais ; 
while to the north, only Tripoli and Antioch 
owned the sway of their counts. The Sultan 
was preparing a vast army with which these 
feeble forces would soon be overcome. Then, 
moved to desperation by the emergency, the 
Christians sent to Europe a heart-rending cry 
for help. 

But Europe responded sluggishly to the ap- 
peal. It was not until several years after the 
ordering of the sixth Crusade by Innocent, that 
an army departed for the scene of conflict. 



8 INTRODUCTORY 

It was during this interval that the movement 
of the young occurred, they having been 
aroused by the measures taken by the Pope to 
excite the people. 

For these measures were varied as the energy 
of the man would lead us to expect, and resulted 
in a feverish excitement throughout Europe. 
He wrote to the Sultans of Cairo and Damas- 
cus, urging them to yield the contested land. 
But his other efforts were of a more practical 
nature. Priests and bishops were sent every- 
where, to awaken enthusiasm by appeals, argu- 
ments, and threats, repeating often : " I came 
not to bring peace, but a sword." Processions 
were held in the cities and towns, to entreat 
God for the imperiled cause and to enkindle 
the zeal of the beholders. Sermons had no 
other theme. The Saviour was spoken of as a 
king banished from his heritage, and Jerusalem 
as a captive queen, appealing to the loyal heart 
to enlist in her behalf. Salvation was almost 
made to depend upon the recovery of the Holy 
Sepulchre, and, in dwelling on the scenes of the 
Saviour's sufferings, the true value of those 
sufferings was forgotten. Innocent himself, in 
his uncompromising zeal, revoked permission 
to engage in all other Crusades, except that 
against the Albigenses, and endeavored to stop 



STATE OF THE CAUSE OF THE CRUSADES 9 

all wars, so that nations might concentrate 
their energies upon this great enterprise. He 
crowned his labors and appeals with his famous 
exclamation, "Sword, sword, start from the 
scabbard and sharpen thyself to kill ! " 
C As so many disastrous and fruitless expedi- 
tions had dampened the interest of Christen- 
dom and shaken its faith in the Crusades, little 
response was given to the frantic efforts of the 
Pope ; but the arts and appeals which had so 
slight effect upon the people kindled the ardor 
of the young, and made them zealous for the 
cause to which their elders seemed indifferent. 
They had not known the calamitous issues of 
so many similar undertakings ; it was new to 
them, and not an old, sad story. The flaming 
descriptions of the Holy Land, vivid references 
to its associations, the favor of God which at- 
tended its defenders, and the glory of fighting 
in its behalf, aroused them to become victims 
of a fate more sad than that of others who 
sought to free it, as it was more touching. 

But their adventures have been passed over 
with little notice. Amidst the din of the con- 
tending armies of Crusaders and the clash of 
steel, few have heard the footsteps and the 
songs of three armies of youthful and unarmed 
combatants, who made their little effort for the 



lO INTRODUCTORY 

holy cause. Although they did not win great 
victories or enduring renown, yet it may be 
that their story will interest us as much as that 
of the more hardy soldiers. 

We are now to collect and narrate such de- 
tails of that story as have been saved from ob- 
livion, and, as we begin, it is with regret that 
they are so few. Withdrawing our attention 
from the conflicts of princes and of Sultans, 
let us listen for a while to the part which was 
taken by the children in that weary struggle 
which has been aptly called the ** World's De- 
bate." 

Ill 

Contemporaneous Events 

The thirteenth century opened in Europe 
amidst bloodshed and confusion, and over many 
lands there hung the lurid clouds of war. All 
the troubles of that troubled era were due to 
one moving spirit, who called himself the Vice- 
gerent of the Prince of Peace, but who, under 
the impulses of ambition and revenge, acted 
rather as if the Vicar of the Prince of War. 
Innocent III., surnamed ''the Great," the most 
arrogant of popes, assumed the tiara in 1198, 
and soon had embroiled all Europe in conflicts 
of different kinds. 



CONTEMPORANEOUS EVENTS II 

Passing in review the various lands, there 
comes first before us Germany, whose Em- 
peror, Otho IV., possessed a character that 
rendered it improbable that he could treat the 
many vexed questions of jurisdiction over the 
petty states of Italy, without clashing with so 
unyielding a rival as Innocent. New jealousies 
grew rapidly between them, besides those in- 
herited with their respective positions, until, 
in 1 2 10, the Emperor was solemnly excommu- 
nicated, and to the thunders of the Church 
was added the more serious declaration of a 
war without mercy. The Pope selected as his 
champion, young Frederick, called "of Sicily," 
son of the Emperor Henry VI., and promised 
him that, if he could wrest the crown from 
Otho, he should wear it as his own, and occupy 
the throne by whose steps he had been reared. 
Otho replied by the ban of the empire against 
the pretender, a weapon second only to excom- 
munication, and, in 121 1, there began a cruel 
war, waged with skill on either side, that ended 
in 1 2 16, when the former combatant died and 
Frederick succeeded to the sceptre, to com- 
mence his splendid reign, the most brilliant 
one of the Middle Ages. 

In England, we find John on the throne. 
He had been king since 1 199, and was a mon- 



1 2 IN TROD UCTOR V 

arch little inclined to bear with the pretensions 
of the Pope, but as little fitted to oppose them. 
In 1206, the storm broke, when an issue was 
made on the appointment, by Innocent, of Ste- 
phen Langton to be Archbishop of Canterbury. 
This the King resisted, claiming that the Pri- 
mate should be chosen in England. He de- 
clared in a rage that no other should ever enter 
the country. In 1208, Innocent excommuni- 
cated him, and John was added to the motley 
list of those who have fallen under the displeas- 
ure of the Bishops of Rome, and who have been 
subjects of a document so eminently Christian 
and merciful as their ban. The King held out 
well for a while, as the national feeling was on 
his side, but at length the suspension of all 
religious rites produced their effect in the 
discontent of the people. When to this was 
added the preparation by Philip of France to 
conquer the land, which the Pope had given 
him, John was obliged to submit, and to con- 
sent to hold his realm as a vassal of Rome. 

As to France, it was to a great extent a 
scene of combat. Philip, seeing his opportunity 
in the weakness of the King of England, re- 
solved to endeavor to expel all foreign rule 
from the land, and to put an end to the anom- 
aly of large parts of his realm being really the 



CONTEMPORANEOUS EVENTS 1 3 

domains of John. He prosecuted the task with 
vigor and success, and, in the opening decade 
of the century, had regained many a province 
that had long been a jewel in the English 
crown. 

But there were other troubles and wars than 
these. It was an era of Crusades, for no less 
than three were commanded by Innocent at 
the opening of this century. They were di- 
rected, not against dwellers in Asia or Africa, 
but against inhabitants of Europe, for now the 
name was applied to all wars in which the Pope 
was interested. Two of them were against 
heathen. In Eastern Europe there was one 
preached against the Prussians, excited chiefly 
by the monks, who found that their unbeliev- 
ing neighbors would not be converted by their 
precept or example. As there were plunder 
and the Church's blessing to be won, as well 
as the glory of doing missionary work among 
idolaters, many flocked to the standard of the 
Cross, and soon rested, either in the homes 
they conquered, or (as we are to suppose) in 
the glory which the Pope promised to those 
who should fall in the conflict. 

In the West, we find a Crusade against the 
Saracens in Spain, who had assumed so threat- 
ening an attitude as to alarm the Christians. 



14 INTRODUCTORY 

These latter were divided among several petty 
states, which enterprising men, who had con- 
quered slices of land from the Moors, had 
called kingdoms. The various rulers, appeal- 
ing to Christendom for aid, prepared to strike 
a concerted blow. Innocent did all that he 
could for them. He sent letters to France, 
urging the bishops to raise soldiers for the 
cause, and held processions in Rome. A large 
number of knights crossed the Pyrenees and 
joined the army that was assembling under the 
King of Castile. After a brief campaign, on 
the 1 6th of July, 12 12, on the plains of Tolosa, 
the power of the Saracens was broken in a 
desperate battle. 

In a certain sense these two wars were really 
Crusades, as against the heathen, but that to 
which we now turn was a war against the 
Cross, and in no sense a Crusade. It will ever 
be accounted one of the greatest crimes upon 
the page of history and in the career of the 
Church that prosecuted it. 

It is unnecessary to detail the horrors of the 
persecution of the Albigenses. A brief state- 
ment will suffice. 

In 1208, a Crusade was ordered against Ray- 
mond, Count of Toulouse, for venturing to 
protect his subjects who rejected the yoke of 



CONTEMPORANEOUS EVENTS 1 5 

Rome. The energy of the Pope's measures, 
and the prospect of plundering for Christ's 
sake that which was then the fairest and the 
richest district of Europe, soon gathered an 
army of great size. Under the skillful leader- 
ship of Simon de Montfort, called ** the Gen- 
eral of the Holy Ghost," a coarse and brutal 
wretch, the Crusaders won victory after vic- 
tory. Thousands were put to death. At one 
massacre the Pope's legate was asked how 
to tell heretic from catholic. He replied : 
*' Slay all j the Lord will know his own ! " It 
is a joy to think how true this was, as we read 
of the sufferings of these humble martyrs. 
Finally, the battle of Muret, in 121 3, put an 
end to all organized resistance on the part of 
the Albigenses, and this " banner of the Cross " 
waved in victory over a devastated land. Their 
swords reeking with the blood of women and 
children, and their tents full of stolen riches, 
these exemplary followers of this " General of 
the Holy Ghost," from their orgies and their 
revels sent to the Pope the pleasant news that 
false religion and immorality had been extir- 
pated. How often God reverses human judg- 
ments ! 

Such were the wars and transactions of the 
era in which occurred the incident that we are 



l6 INTRODUCTORY 

to describe. But what was the condition of 
the people ? Let us briefly answer this ques- 
tion, that one may know the state of the lands 
whence the children issued, and the influences 
which surrounded them in their homes. 

IV 

The Condition of the People 

This was such as might be expected from 
the character of the times when war and tur- 
moil seemed everywhere supreme. Vast dis- 
tricts were desolated and their inhabitants 
sighed and starved, while in others, that armies 
had not ravaged, the people lived in daily dread 
of pillage. Society was disorganized, and law 
a mockery, for the peasant had from it no pro- 
tection, and the baron held it in defiance ; so 
that the former, unless some lord was inter- 
ested in preserving him for his own plunder- 
ing, was at the mercy of any of the fierce out- 
laws, who called themselves nobles. The only 
shelter for the lowly was the Church ; the only 
fields that were not pillaged were those her 
officials owned. Nearly all Europe was in this 
condition ; the exempted regions were few, and 
most of these were only safe because too poor 
to devastate. Tormented and wearied, multi- 



THE CONDITION OF THE PEOPLE ly 

tudes prayed in agony and want for peace of 
death. 

Such a state of affairs naturally resulted in 
* ignorance, as great as the prevailing poverty. 
In the midst of such distractions there was little 
chance for study, and any one who could read 
or write, unless an ecclesiastic, was regarded as 
a wizard ; while many of the clergy themselves 
would not have been able, by either test, to 
prove their position. There was not, perhaps, a 
darker era during the ages of gloom, as regards 
misery and ignorance, than this beginning of 
the thirteenth century. Life must have been 
» a burden, and men little better informed than 
the brutes with which they tilled their fields 
for precarious crops. 

As may easily be imagined, religion was at 
a low ebb ; and, while armies were fighting for 
the Cross, few knew the teachings of that 
emblem. The instruction which the people 
generally received from those appointed to 
minister in holy things was a system of absurd 
superstitions, wherein they learned of deeds of 
questionable saints and supposititious martyrs, 
and the honor due to God was rendered to a 
woman, enthroned in his place. 

To illustrate the state of affairs, and show 
the example set by the clergy in France, where 



1 8 INTRODUCTORY 

the Children's Crusade originated, with which 
we are to be concerned, let us describe two 
customs, or ceremonies, of regular occurrence, 
and they will help to realize the extent of the 
prevailing ignorance concerning pure and un- 
defiled religion. The first of these was called 
the *' Feast of the Fools." ^ It was observed, 
not only in Paris, but in many other parts of the 
land, in the cathedral cities. In the former 
place it occurred on the Feast of the Circum- 
cision, in others on Epiphany, and, in a few, on 
Innocents' Day ; whence it was also called the 
"Feast of the Innocents." On the appointed 
day the priests and clerks met and chose an 
archbishop and a bishop from among their 
number. They then proceeded to the cathe- 
dral, led by the mock prelates, arrayed in 
great pomp, and, after entering the edifice, be- 
gan orgies of the most sacrilegious character. 
Masked, and dressed in skins of animals, dis- 
guised as buffoons, and even in the garments of 
women, they danced and jumped about, shout- 
ing blasphemous exclamations and obscenest 
songs. They used the altar as a table, and, 
during the performance of mass by the mock 
bishops, the others ate and drank around it, 
and played with dice. Exerting all their inge- 

1 Du Cange. 



THE CONDITION OF THE PEOPLE 1 9 

nuity to devise desecrations of the place, they 
burned the leather of their old sandals as in- 
cense, and crowned all by defiling the church, 
in postures and acts of unmentionable inde- 
cency. It seems as if this were giving vent to 
that which they felt during the whole year, that 
religion was a fable, and their duties the acts 
of a play. Eudes de Sully endeavored to sup- 
press this sacrilege, but in vain. We find it 
still practiced a century later. 

The other custom which shows the degrada- 
tion of the Church was that called the " Feast 
of the Asses." ^ Although as general as the 
former, it was most popular in the south of 
France. The proceedings in Beauvais were as 
follows : The people and the clergy chose the 
prettiest girl of the town, and, placing a beau- 
tiful babe in her arms, mounted her on a richly 
caparisoned ass to represent Mary and the Sa- 
viour. In great state she was led from the ca- 
thedral, where the selection had been made, to 
the parish church of St. Stephen, which the 
procession entered. The maiden and child, still 
on the ass, were placed on the gospel (or north) 
side of the altar, and the mass was commenced. 
Whenever the choir ended the Introit, the 
Kyrie, the Creed, or any other part which was 

1 Celebrated January 14th. 



20 INTRODUCTORY 

chanted, they added a chorus, consisting of the 
sounds, " Hin-ham, Hin-ham," which were ut- 
tered so as to represent, as nearly as possible, 
the braying of the animal. A priest preached 
a sermon in mingled French and Latin, de- 
voted to the exposition of the good qualities of 
the ass, and at the end repeated a hymn ^ com- 
posed of a barbarous mixture of the two lan- 

1 It being a curious relic, the entire hymn sung on this oc- 
casion is added here. It is found in Du Gauge's Glossarium 
Novum, etc.. where the ceremony is described. 

Orientis partibus 
Adventavit asinus 
Pulcher et fortissimus, 
Sarcinis aptissimus. 
Choms : Hez, sire asnes, car chantez ? 

Belle bouche r^chignez ? 

Vous aurez du foin assez, 

Et de I'avoine ^ plantez. 

Lentus erat pedibus, 
Nisi foret baculus, 
Et eum in clunibus 
Pungeret aculeus. 
Chorus. 

Hie in coUibus Sichem, 
Jam nutritus sub Ruben : 
Transiit per Jordanem, 
Saliit in Bethlehem. 
Chorus. 

Ecce magnis auribus, 
Subjugalis filius, 
Asinus egregius, 
Asinorum dominus. 
Chorus. 



THE CONDITION OF THE PEOPLE 21 

guages, whose every stanza was followed by a 
refrain which may be thus translated : — 

" O Sir Ass, why do you bray ? 

Why with that beautiful voice do you scold ? 
You shall soon have plenty of hay, 

And of oats, much more than can be told." 

When the whole profane farce was over, the 
officiating priest, in dismissing the congrega- 

Saltu vincit hinnulos, 
Damas et capreolos ; 
Super dromedarios 
Velox Medianeos. 
Chorus. 

Aurum de Arabia, 
Thus et myrrhum de Saba, 
Tulit in ecclesia 
Virtus asinaria. 
Chorus. 

Dum trahit vehicula 
Multa cum sarcinula, 
lUius mandibula, 
Dura terit pabula. 
Chorus. 

Cum aristis hordeum 
Comedit et carduum : 
Triticum e palea, 
Segregat in areS. 
Chorus. 

Amen dicas, asine, 

{Hie genufiectehatur^ 
Jam satur de gramine : 
Amen, Amen, itera, 
Aspernare Vetera. 
Chorus : Hez va ! hez va ! hez va hez ! 
Biax sire asnes car allez ? 
Belle bouche car chantea ? 



22 INTROD UCTOR Y 

tion, said, instead of " Ite, missa est," " Hin- 
ham ! Hin-ham ! Hin-ham ! " The people, as 
they dispersed, replied with the same sounds, 
repeated three times, instead of " Deo gratias." 

These things occurred in the most Christian 
land of Europe, in the days of a pope who 
gloried in his zeal for Christianity, without en- 
countering any rebuke from king or pontiff ! 
What must have been the religious teachings 
of a clergy, so degraded, and so defiant of all 
things sacred ! What ideas must the people 
have had of the Gospel, when their guides 
knew so little ! 

These few facts and hints are all that can be 
given, in view of our limits, to show what were 
the times, what the state of the people, and 
what the events transpiring when, in 1212,^ 
that episode occurred, which is now to be de- 
scribed. In Spain, the armies of Christians 
and Moslems are gathering for the great bat- 

1 As regards the date of the Children's Crusade, there is 
some discrepancy among the chroniclers, but there is no 
doubt that it occurred in 1212, as all contemporaries assert, 
as well as the Silver Chronicle^ Chronicle of Laon, and Ogerius 
Panis. The variations are the following : Chronicle of St, 
Medard gwQs, as the date, 1209; Thomas de Champre, 1213; 
John Massey, 12 10. An error in the existing MSS. of 
Jacques de Vitry reads 1222 for 1212. But the authority 
of contemporaries should be conclusive, as the historians 
Michaud, Hecker, Wilken, and Raumer are agreed. 



THE CONDITION OF THE PEOPLE 23 

tie. Frederick is marshaling his adherents to 
conquer a crown. The Albigenses are falling 
in martyrdom, and John is defying the Pope. 
Gladly do we leave the transactions in the 
sphere of the rulers of earth, to follow the for- 
tunes of a movement among the lowly and the 
young. 



CHAPTER II 

THE RISING IN FRANCE 



Cloyes and its Hero 

Through that part of the old province of 
Orleannais which is now called the Department 
of Eure-et-Loir, and which is a vast, chalky- 
plain, almost denuded of verdure, there runs 
the little river Loir, in a southerly direction, 
until it joins the beautiful Loire, which on its 
course to the sea flows past gray old cities and 
famous chateaux. About twenty miles west of 
Orleans the valley of the former river widens, 
and in this basin, between the hills, surrounded 
by smiling meadows, is the town of Cloyes, 
that has one association in a history of centu- 
ries to endue it with interest. Although more 
ancient than many other places in the vicinity, 
it has yet slumbered through the ages in ob- 
scurity, its cares and traditions and character- 
istics having been handed down undisturbed 
through generations which witnessed many 



CLOYES AND ITS HERO 2$ 

changes elsewhere. Recently a railway has 
been constructed, which runs near the town, 
and its loud whistle sounds through the little 
streets, as trains pass the station on the plateau 
above. 

It is an ordinary French village, with its 
square market-place, where are sold wooden 
shoes, fruit, crockery, and the other miscel- 
laneous articles peculiar to such a scene ; its 
Mairicy with the imperial escutcheon at pres- 
ent hanging where so many other similar pic- 
tures have swung ; its dirty shops and staring 
houses, and its dilapidated church, whose pic- 
tures and images might be thought to render 
idolatry impossible, because they come up to 
none of the requisites of the second command- 
ment in regard to resembling anything *' in the 
heavens above, in the earth beneath, or in the 
waters under the earth." But still the scene 
before one is attractive, as he stands on the old 
stone bridge by which the main street crosses 
the Loir. The little river comes from behind 
the trees of the park of an old chateau, which 
is seen a mile distant. After lazily turning 
here and there a mill-wheel, when it reaches 
the precincts of the village, it passes beneath 
our standing-place, to run through the green 
meadows and beneath shady willows, until it 



26 THE RISING IN FRANCE 

enters the little valley, by which it issues from 
this basin, where, in some earlier days, it 
formed a lake. On the eastern side of us lies 
the village, extending about a thousand feet to 
the declivity, which forms the limit of the 
valley in that direction. On the other side of 
the river, green fields extend about half a mile 
to the base of vine-clad slopes. 

This bridge is a pleasant place for musing 
on a summer afternoon, and the scene recalls 
past days, for the country is full of historical 
interest. Many a knight and soldier slept here 
for the last time on the eve of the battle of 
Fretteval, where, close at hand, Philip Augus- 
tus was defeated by Richard Coeur de Lion, in 
1 1 94. And the people of this quiet hamlet 
were awakened by enthusiasm, as was all that 
nation, when Jeanne d'Arc passed through 
their streets on the way to seek Orleans and to 
win for herself immortal renown. 

It is in this village that our story begins.^ 
For, here, in the last years of the twelfth cen- 
tury or the first of the thirteenth, was born a 
boy who was named Stephen, probably after 

1 There are various authorities for the fact that Cloyes was 
the birthplace and home of Stephen. Among others, see the 
Chronicle of Laon, which says he was " ex villa Cloies, juxta 
castrum Vidocinum." Johannes Yperius says he was from 
the diocese of Chartres. 



CLOYES AND ITS HERO 2/ 

the saint of his birthday, the 26th of Decem- 
ber. Had it not been for him, this place might 
never have been mentioned in history ; but 
his fame is forever linked with it, as the only 
name by which he is known is " Stephen of 
Cloyes." 

His father was a shepherd, or a poor peas- 
ant, and Cloyes was then a miserable hamlet. 
The Loir ran by it then as now, but the banks 
which it washed, instead of being highly culti- 
vated and densely peopled, were tilled to an ex- 
tent only sufficient to feed the few inhabitants, 
who, in squalor and ignorance, knew little of 
luxury or of comfort. No hard and smooth 
highway led to the neighboring cities. The 
scanty traffic and the little travel had for their 
use a wretched and often impassable path. 

Among such circumstances Stephen passed 
his infancy and began his childhood. When 
old enough to hold a staff and chase a refrac- 
tory lamb, he was sent to be a shepherd boy, 
and he spent the summers upon the plains 
around his home, no better and no worse than 
others who led the same life, although, as his 
acts subsequently proved, mature beyond his 
years. 

Obscurely and quietly his life glided away 
until, in 12 12, he became, as we are to see, the 



28 THE RISING IN FRANCE 

one upon whom was centred the attention of 
France. 

We have already noticed the many means 
resorted to by the hierarchy to awaken the 
slumbering interest of the people in the shat- 
tered cause of the Crusades. Among these 
were frequent processions, when every expres- 
sion of grief and of entreaty was called into 
use, to impress upon the beholders a feeling 
that God commanded them to enlist under the 
again uplifted banner, and to arouse either 
their ardor or their fear. 

There had long existed an ancient custom 
of the Church, observed on St. Mark's day, 
April 25th, called the ** Litania Major," or 
Greater Litany.^ It was a processional litany, 
instituted centuries before by Gregory the 
Great, during the ravages of the plague, but 
generally still maintained in Latin Christen- 
dom. On this day the altars were shrouded in 
black, and priests and' people went through the 
streets of towns and cities, chanting prayers 
and carrying crosses likewise draped. From 
this last feature, the day was popularly called 
the " Black Crosses." At the time of which 
we are speaking, this ceremony was adapted 

1 See among others Joinville's Memoirs of Louis IX. for 
description. 



CLOVES AND ITS HERO 29 

to commemorate the sufferings of those who 
had died in the defense of the Holy Land, and 
to implore mercy in behalf of the Christians 
now beleaguered there, as well as of the many 
others that were pining in slavery. We can 
well imagine that such an observance, accom- 
panied by stirring sermons and vivid threats 
and promises, would have excited the people, 
especially the young, who had neither the ex- 
perience nor the judgment requisite to discern 
the hopelessness of the Crusades, and the de- 
lusiveness of such appeals. 

Stephen had of course heard of the desper- 
ate state to which the combatants of the Cross 
were reduced, and stray pilgrims and priests 
had told to the villagers of Cloyes stories of 
adventure and of glory which could not fail to 
excite his credulous mind. But all his ardor 
was redoubled when, in the neighboring city of 
Chartres, he beheld the procession referred to 
above.^ The black crosses, the loud and affect- 
ing litanies, the appeals which plead for an 
insulted Christ and his enslaved soldiers, the 
solemn ceremonials, the tears and emotions of 
the crowds, worked upon him most powerfully, 
and made him burn with desire to play a part 
in the expulsion of the hated Mohammedans 
1 Johannes Yperius. 



30 THE RISING IN FRANCE 

from the land sanctified by the life of Jesus 
and hallowed by the possession of his tomb. 

All alive with such emotions, he retraced, at 
evening, his homeward steps. And as he 
mused thereafter, in his loneliness on^ the hill- 
side with his flocks, his imagination reveled in 
deeds of daring, and in pictures of sacred 
scenes, until he was ready for any enterprise, 
prepared to believe, with unquestioning credu- 
lity, any story, however wild and improbable. 

While in this excited state, there appeared to 
him, one day, a stranger, who at first said that 
he was a returned pilgrim from Palestine on his 
way to a distant home, and asked for some food. 
Stephen could refuse nothing to one who had 
been where he longed to be, and had seen places 
for whose rescue he was ready to die. He only 
asked, in return, to be told of the wonders of the 
Orient, and of the exploits of the brave heroes 
who had fallen there in battle, or who still lin- 
gered in the few remaining cities. Readily did 
the stranger comply with his request and tell 
him that which delighted his ears. Having 
thus gained an influence over the boy, he an- 
nounced himself to be Jesus Christ, and pro- 
ceeded to commission Stephen to preach a Cru- 
sade to the children, promising that, with him 
as their leader and prophet, they should win 



CLOVES AND ITS HERO 31 

that victory which soldiers and nobles had failed 
to gain. He also gave the astonished youth a 
letter to the king of France, commanding that 
monarch to furnish aid to the new enterprise. 
Thereupon the pilgrim, undoubtedly a disguised 
priest, who had heard of Stephen's enthusiasm, 
and thought him a suitable instrument for the 
purpose of arousing the people, disappeared as 
mysteriously as he had come.^ But he had 
played well his part, and rarely has a deception 
been so successful. 

After this, to be a shepherd boy was no more 
possible to Stephen. Higher duties called him, 
he said, when rushing homeward, he told of his 

^ The Chronicle of Laon relates this interview of Stephen 
with Christ, and says that he showed, without any expression 
of doubt, the letter which the Saviour gave him. I have 
adopted the explanation suggested by Sporschild and others, 
and which commends itself to reason, that Stephen was duped 
by some priest who found him ready to believe even such a 
thing, and ardent enough to assume such a charge. There 
must have been an incident of some kind to put it into the 
boy's head to undertake such a mission. Again, he certainly 
showed some letter as proof of his call, which he could never 
have written, nor any one else in Cloyes ; it was clearly the 
work of an ecclesiastic, which confirms the above theory. 
And if, in the nineteenth century, the people of France believe 
that the Virgin appeared at La Salette with a babe in her 
arms, they would much more readily have believed in the 
thirteenth century that Christ appeared in person, when it was 
to effect an end considered so intimately allied with his religion. 



32 THE RISING IN FRANCE 

interview with the Lord to his bewildered par- 
ents and neighbors, and showed his celestial 
letter to the King. There was no reasoning 
with him. Carried away by high hopes and by 
the dignity of his supposed call, he entered at 
once upon his work. To all he narrated his 
story, and to the welcoming ears of his compan- 
ions he told that now, when the defenders of the 
Holy Sepulchre were few, and their ranks thin 
from the ravages of disease and war, when 
man's plans had failed, God had revealed his 
plan, which was to give the possession of Pal- 
estine to the children who should enlist. *^ For 
the last time have we heard of defeat," cried he ; 
" hereafter shall children show mailed warriors 
and proud barons how invincible are youths 
when God leads them ! " 

But the field was too narrow in Cloyes. From 
a point so obscure he could not arouse France. 
Some more central place must be sought ; and 
at once he fixed upon the great shrine of the 
land, the object of countless pilgrimages, where 
to ever changing crowds he could preach his 
Crusade, and spread to homes of every district 
the intelligence of his enterprise. He resolved 
to go to St. Denys.i 

1 Chronicle of Laon. 



ST. DENYS 33 

II 

St. Denys 

Five miles north of Paris is the city of St. 
Denys, the place of burial of the martyr Dio- 
nysius. He was one of the seven holy men who 
established churches in Gaul, and from whose 
labors resulted the conversion of the land. Di- 
onysius founded the Church of Paris and was 
its first Bishop. In 272, under the reign of 
Valerian, he suffered martyrdom. In the fifth 
century a church was erected over his grave, 
around which a town sprang up, to which was 
given his name. From the time of Dagobert, 
all the kings and many other members of the 
royal family were buried there, so that it be- 
came the central point of France, and identified 
with its interests. Here, too, was kept the 
sacred Oriflamme, or the holy standard of 
the realm, which originally was the flag of the 
Church, but was committed to the king, as its 
guardian, when he went to fight enemies of the 
nation; and as such, was venerated by St. 
Louis, and inspirited the Maid of Orleans. Its 
form was that of a triple-tongued flame, in al- 
lusion to the tongues of fire that descended at 
Pentecost. Its color was, accordingly, red. 

The monks and priests who were interested 



34 THE RISING IN FRANCE 

in rendering the place attractive soon made it 
a centre of pilgrimage, and succeeded in im- 
pressing it upon the people that great were the 
benefits of a visit to the tomb of the Saint. 
Legends without number were fabricated. He 
himself was said to be Dionysius the Areopa- 
gite, for which there was not a shadow of evi- 
dence, and a marvelous series of events were 
strung together and called his life. Of all these 
fictions, the wildest, which is still taught and 
believed, was that concerning his death. It 
was said that, after very cruel treatment, he was 
beheaded, and his body thrown into the Seine, 
but that, issuing from that river, he carried his 
head in his hands for the distance of two miles, 
to the place where he desired to be interred.^ 

Of course the grave of so eminent a saint 
was soon a great resort for those who thought 
that he, who could do so much for himself, 
might do something for them. Pilgrims con- 
tinued to increase in numbers, until it became, 
like the tomb of St. James at Compostello in 
Spain, a national shrine, whither came thou- 
sands for physical relief and mental consola- 
tion ; perhaps, sometimes, for spiritual aid. 

1 It was concerning this that Ninon de PEnclos, when 
asked if she believed that the Saint carried his head all the 
way, said : " La distance ne vaut rien. Ce n'est que le pre- 
mier pas qui coute." 



ST. DENYS 35 

In the commencement of the thirteenth cen- 
tury the influence of the shrine was at its 
height, for wars and Crusades could not deter 
the people from seeking it. 

To St. Denys, then, do we behold Stephen 
of Cloyes journeying in the month of May, 
1 21 2. Dressed in his shepherd's attire, his 
crook in hand, and a little wallet by his side, 
he departed from the obscurity of his home 
and of his infancy. With bounding heart and 
exuberant hopes, he walked in eagerness which 
ignored fatigue. As he went, he preached his 
mission in the towns and cities by the way. 
But even Chartres and Paris could not delay 
him long, for he was in haste to reach the 
place which was to be the scene of his glorious 
labors. At last he arrived there, and every- 
where, by the door of the church which con- 
tained the tomb, in the market-place, and at all 
hours, to astonished audiences, he proclaimed 
the new Crusade. 

Gifted with extraordinary powers of speech, 
he succeeded in enchaining the attention and 
gaining the admiring reverence of his hearers. 
To an enthusiast this was an easy task, with 
a subject so suggestive, and in such a place. 
He told the old story of the sufferings of the 
Christians in the Holy Land, and of their Ian- 



36 THE RISING IN FRANCE 

guishing in slavery, and the audience seemed 
to hear the clank of their chains as the speaker 
dwelt on their cries for help. And not only 
were their breasts stirred by that appeal ; they 
also were told of the state of their brethren 
who were besieged in the few cities which they 
still held, and their hardships were a fruitful 
theme. 

But Stephen had a still more powerful argu- 
ment and a more potent appeal. He pointed 
to the sepulchre of St. Denys, thronged by its 
worshipers, and then contrasted its condition 
with that of the sepulchre of the Saviour. The 
one was guarded by believers, and the scene of 
unrestrained devotion ; the other, insulted by 
the presence of infidels, and receiving not a 
prayer from those who would love to worship 
there. He then asked them if they would tol- 
erate this, if they would not strive to make the 
Saviour's tomb as honored and as free from 
defilement as the Saint's. 

He showed the letter to the king, to confirm 
the doubting, and asked if Christ's commands 
were to be disregarded. He repeated the nar- 
rative of his interview with the Lord, and, to 
add credibility to his authorization to be the 
prophet of the new Crusade, told many inci- 
dents of a supernatural kind. He said that 



ST. DENYS 37 

when he returned from his visit to see the 
procession held to implore God's mercy for the 
cause of the Crusades, before he had been 
commissioned by the Lord, he went to the 
pasture grounds of his flocks and found them 
absent. After searching, he discovered them 
in a field of grain. Enraged, he began to drive 
them thence with blows, when they all fell on 
their knees and begged his forgiveness. This, 
with other signs, said he, led him to believe 
that great things were in store for him, even 
before he had been visited by Christ. 

He soon became the Saint of the day, and 
the shrine was abandoned to listen to his stir- 
ring words. Especially was this the case, be- 
cause he worked miracles. It is said that he 
healed the sick, and made other supernatural 
signs bear witness to his authority.^ They 
who were credulous enough to come to St. 
Denys, and to believe the legends which made 
the place what it was, would not be apt to dis- 
credit the claims and the miracles of Stephen. 

But especially was enthusiasm aroused in 
the young who visited the place, or who were 
brought thither by their elders. The call of 
Stephen appealed to natural feelings, and they 
gladly believed him, when he said that for 

1 Vincent de Beauvais. 



38 THE RISING IN FRANCE 

them was reserved all the glory of the rescue 
of the Holy Sepulchre. 

Accordingly, as the pilgrims departed from 
St. Denys, they bore to their different homes 
the story of the new apostle, the successor of 
Peter the Hermit, and of Bernard. The chil- 
dren rejoiced in being the exclusive recipients of 
God's lofty commission, and told their compan- 
ions of the eloquence and the power of Stephen. 
Alive with emulation to play a prominent part 
in the enterprise, they commenced to seek ad- 
herents. The matter spread like a contagion. 
As there were in the audiences of Stephen pil- 
grims from all parts of France, soon in every 
region of the land was his mission known, and 
children were excited to dreams of terrestrial 
fame and celestial glory. The movement be- 
gan, regardless of feuds of rulers, of difference 
of government, or of wars. It spread in Brit- 
tany, where the English ruled, as well as in 
Normandy, recently added to the domains of 
Philip; in Aquitaine and Auvergne, likewise 
just freed from the sway of the foreigners, as 
well as in Provence, where the king of Aragon 
was sovereign ; in Toulouse, red with the blood 
of martyrs, as well as in peaceful Gascony. The 
children knew not, or cared not, what rule their 
elders acknowledged, and were not interested 



THE MINOR PROPHETS 39 

in the wars for power. The undercurrent of 
their life was untouched by the storms which 
disturbed the surface. Consequently, while the 
adults were prevented from unity of action 
and from yielding to any interest in the Cru- 
sades which they may have felt, by the commo- 
tions and the political divisions of the land, the 
young were one, and, regardless of tongue or of 
state, responded to the appeal, from the Chan- 
nel or the Pyrenees, from the Rhone or the 
Loire. The voice of Stephen found everywhere 
a ready echo, and when there went among them 
those who sought to enlist adherents, they had 
an easy task. All the children united in saying 
exultingly, *' Long enough have you, knights 
and warriors, so boastful and so honored, been 
making your fruitless attempts to rescue the 
tomb of Christ ! God can wait no longer ! 
He is tired of your vain, puny efforts ! Stand 
back and let us, whom you despise, carry out 
his commission ! He who calls can insure the 
victory, and we will show you what children 
can do !" 

Ill 

The Minor Prophets 

An old chronicler, while describing the 
events of these times, dwells at length upon the 



40 THE RISING IN FRANCE 

excitement caused in some parts of France by 
the frantic appeals and by the arts of the clergy, 
in their endeavors to awaken among the lower 
classes that interest in Palestine which slum- 
bered among the upper ranks of society. He 
also gives many signs which the Lord sent to 
add to the power of the emissaries of the Pope, 
and tells us many a curious and wild story in 
this connection. Among these he says that 
"it is affirmed for a certainty, that, every ten 
years, fishes, frogs, butterflies, and birds pro- 
ceeded likewise according to their kinds and 
seasons ; and at that time so great a multitude 
of fishes was caught that all men greatly won- 
dered. And certain old and decayed men af- 
firmed, as a certain thing, that, from different 
parts of France, an innumerable multitude of 
dogs were gathered together, at the town of 
Champagne which is called Manshymer. But 
those dogs, having divided into two parties, and 
fighting bravely against each other, nearly all 
slew one another in the mutual slaughter, and 
very few returned home." ^ Such, says he, were 
among the wonderful incidents which accom^ 
panied the commencement of the Children's 
Crusade, and, added to the prevalent excite- 
ment, made the children ready to believe that 

1 Chronicle of St. Medard. 



THE MINOR PROPHETS 4 1 

their call to rescue Palestine was the great event 
which those signs were intended to herald. 

As has been said, the more enterprising 
among the youths who had listened to Stephen 
returned home, resolved to play a part in the 
coming episode of glory, only subordinate to 
" The Prophet," as he was called. Everywhere 
there arose children of ten years, and some 
even as young as eight, who claimed to be 
prophets also, sent by Stephen in the name 
of God. They went throughout their respec- 
tive districts, eagerly appealing to their com- 
panions to assume the Cross. They took as 
their text, and their authorization, the passage 
of Scripture which they interpreted to refer 
peculiarly to this undertaking : ** Out of the 
mouths of babes and sucklings hast thou or- 
dained strength, because of thine enemies, that 
thou mightest still the enemy and the avenger." 
It would have been difficult for the adult Cru- 
saders to find a text as appropriate. 

These " minor prophets " (as the chronicles 
call them) also claimed to work miracles, and 
thus added to their authority and the effect of 
their preaching. Among the many who thus 
took it upon themselves to extend Stephen's 
call, the names of none have been preserved, 
except one. He was an adult, and, had he not 



42 ' THE RISING IN FRANCE 

risen to prominence on another occasion, his 
name would also have been forgotten. It was 
Jacob of Hungary, whose strange life, one of 
the strangest on record, will be traced at an- 
other time. In this movement he was active, 
and was instrumental in arousing the north- 
eastern part of France. The names and the 
careers of the many who made the mountains 
and valleys of the land echo with their dis- 
courses and their delusive promises are lost in 
oblivion. 

When they had gathered sufficient numbers, 
they formed them into regular and solemn pro- 
cessions and marched through the towns and 
villages with circumstances of display, in order 
to gain more recruits. Of course, in different 
districts, there was variety in their arrange- 
ments, and the details differed.^ But, ks a 
general thing, there was, at the head of each 
procession, a chosen youth, who bore the 
Orifiamme, a copy of that at St. Denys, and 
which was, like the colors of a regiment, an 
object of devotion, the symbol of honor. Many 
carried wax candles, some waved perfumed 
censers, while here and there were to be seen 
crosses borne aloft. 

1 Chronicle of Rouen, and Chronicle of the Monastery of the 
Dead Sea. 



THE MINOR PROPHETS 43 

And as they marched they sang hymns, 
many of which were the creation of their 
fevered minds. Some were, however, ancient, 
having been used in the previous Crusades, 
and having awakened the enthusiasm of thou- 
sands who slept on ahen soil. But, in all the 
songs, the constant theme was that expressed 
in the frequently repeated refrains : ** Lord, 
restore Christendom ! " *' Lord, restore to us 
the true and holy Cross ! " ^ They adopted the 
watchword which for two centuries had rung 
through Europe, and had been sounded on a 
hundred battlefields in Asia, which had spurred 
to action many a victorious, as well as many a 
vanquished army, and which now brings before 
us, as we hear it, the whole drama of the Cru- 
sades. Crying " Dieu le volt ! " these children 
threw aside all other obedience,^ and consid- 
ered that they acted under a higher than hu- 
man law. . 

The excitement was not confined to the chil- 
dren of any particular class or rank. As would 
be expected, the greater number were of the 
peasant order, or, as one chronicler says in 
general terms, " they were all shepherds." ^ 

1 Roger de Wendover. 

2 Godfrey; Chronicle of St. Medard ; Chronicle of Rainer, 
2 Godfrey the monk. 



44 THE RISING IN FRANCE 

The ignorance of the world which resulted 
from l^heir seclusion rendered these peculiarly 
liable to deception. They who had never 
passed the precincts of their parishes or can- 
tons knew nothing of the hardships of war, 
the extent of this world and the distance to 
Palestine, nor of the stern realities which were 
concealed by the glory and the glitter of the 
Crusades. 

But we are also told that many noble youths, 
sons of counts and barons, joined the proces- 
sions which they saw marching past their cas- 
tellated homes. There were peculiar reasons 
why they were susceptible to the appeals of the 
prophets, and were seized with desire to take 
part in the enterprise. They had, from their 
birth, associated with the knights and warriors 
who had won fame and honor in the Crusades. 
They had heard for years, as familiar themes 
of conversation, of the brilliant deeds of brave 
men, who themselves often narrated to -them 
their feats at Ascalon or at Tiberias. They 
had also heard recalled most tenderly, as ob- 
jects of envy, those who had fallen in the 
sacred cause. Accounts of the beauty of the 
East and of the richness of its scenes, descrip- 
tions of Jerusalem and of the Sepulchre, had 
they again and again Hstened to, from those 



THE MINOR PROPHETS 45 

who had been in those wonderful places. It 
was unavoidable that influences such as these 
should have a mighty effect upon the young. 
It was natural that they would think and dream 
of the time when they might go in gorgeous 
armor, on prancing chargers, so to act, that 
they too might be spoken of as were the many 
whose names were the household, words of 
chivalry. 

Again, there were those who had lost their 
fathers in the wars for the Cross, and they saw 
on the wall the sword and shield which re- 
minded them that they were heirs of a noble 
fame. It would have been strange if such 
children were not fond of reveries and antici- 
pations of glorious deeds in the same cause. 
Many had resolved that one day they would 
take those honored weapons, and, seeking the 
land hallowed by deathless memories, would 
complete the work of their sires, or else sleep 
by their side in the same consecrated earth. 

Consequently, when such youths heard of 
the armies of children assembling at the sum- 
mons of Christ to rescue Palestine, they felt 
that the time had come for the realization of 
their cherished dream.^ And when from the 
hills whereon stood their homes, they saw the 
1 Lambert of Liege. 



46 THE RISING IN FRANCE 

processions pass with uplifted crosses and with 
banners waved by the breeze which bore to 
their ears inspiriting songs of triumph, they 
could not stay, but hurried to join the throng, 
and either to assume positions as leaders, or 
as willingly to obey the orders of some once 
despised peasant. And so it happened that 
in the bands hurrying to Stephen was repre- 
sented many a name that had been honored in 
the hosts of Godfrey and of Guiscard, of Louis 
VII. and of Thibaut. 

Of course, the motives which led the young 
to join in these processions were not always 
the purest or the most religious. Many gladly 
embraced the opportunity to escape from the 
restraints of home, and to secure freedom for 
their evil tempers and desires. To them this 
was not the golden chance to deliver the 
sepulchre of Christ ; they cared not for its 
honor, or for the sufferings of its champions, it 
was only the golden chance to gain a dreamed- 
of liberty from parental rule. 

But we may not deny that the mass were 
stirred by feelings of a pious nature. To those 
in the tender years of childhood it was a touch- 
ing tale, that of the grave of Jesus in the hands 
of heathen, and the recital of the sufferings 
endured in its behalf could not fail to impress 



THE MINOR PROPHETS 47 

them most strongly. All, therefore, who had 
any piety were as ready for this summons as 
tow for the spark, when urged to join in this 
new Crusade, which was to be triumphant and 
bloodless, Christ himself having appeared and 
promised victory. 

But we are told that many girls also joined 
the companies which traversed the land. Some 
statements seem to indicate that quite a large 
proportion were of this sex.^ The same rea- 
sons which prompted many of the boys would 
influence them, and both inability to repel 
them and willingness to have their numbers as 
great as possible would induce the leaders to 
tolerate and encourage their accession. 

And thus from their thousand homes they 
came, when in the market-places, at the cross- 
roads, by the wayside, the youthful prophets 
preached their mission, and pictured the glory 
of the cause as well as the certainty of its suc- 
cess. From the battlemented castle on the 
mountain, from the cheerless houses of the 
town beneath, and from the miserable mud 
hovels of the hamlet in the fields, rushed the 
deluded children to swell the ranks of an army, 
from whose weary march few would return 
again to their homes. 

1 Rainer. 



48 THE RISING IN FRANCE 

But the excitement was not confined to the 
children. Men and women joined the assem- 
bhng bands in no small numbers, prompted 
by a desire to rescue the Holy Land. They 
thought this appeal stronger than any other 
which had been made, and, while they were 
indifferent to the summons of priests, they lis- 
tened eagerly to the call of the young pro- 
phets, thinking that they thus embarked upon 
a Crusade which had greater hopes and was 
to share a different fate from those whose dis- 
asters had desolated Europe. Even old age 
did not stand entirely aloof. Men of gray hairs 
and of tottering steps were seized with the 
contagion, and, in their second childhood, imi- 
tated the ardor and credulity of that which had 
long since passed away.^ 

But many other men and women joined the 
armies from motives of a baser nature. All 
that were depraved in every sense found this 
a rare chance for profit. Abandoned women 
flocked in numbers in the expectation of fulfill- 
ing their infamous plans and of robbing as well 
as of ruining the youths. Thieves and sharp-. 
ers never had such easy prey, and they did not 
neglect it. Every one whose disposition would 
lead them to consider this an occasion for gain 

^ Chronicle of the Monastery of the Dead Sea ; Rainer. 



OPPOSITION AND ITS RESULTS 49 

or plunder hurried to the rendezvous. Conse- 
quently there were introduced into the assem- 
bling troops of pilgrims elements which would 
necessarily work their demoralization, and we 
are not surprised when we find that that re- 
sult ensued. 

One may now see how motley was the com- 
position of the numbers which the subordinates 
of Stephen gathered and led to him. Thus 
can we imagine the appearance of the bands 
which journeyed through the various districts, 
containing boys and girls, nobles and peasants, 
old and young, men and women, pious dupes 
and crafty thieves, praying pilgrims and vilest 
wretches. 

IV 

Opposition and its Results 

It was not to be expected that such a move- 
ment could continue long without attracting 
the notice of the government. The king at 
this time was Philip Augustus, an unprincipled 
man and treacherous toward foreign nations, 
but generally an able and a wise ruler of his 
own. His policy of deceitfulness, although he 
justified this on the plea of regaining his rights, 
resulted in the elevation of France, which at 
his death was united and strong. 



50 THE RISING IN FRANCE 

When he first heard of the rising of the chil- 
dren, he seemed inclined to favor it, probably 
hoping that it might result in the arousing of 
the people to enlist in the Crusade and so 
enable him to obey the Pope, whom he was 
desirous to please that he might humiliate 
John of England, while, at the same time, it 
would save him the trouble of collecting an 
army for the purpose. 

But the matter soon grew serious, and his 
counselors urged upon him that it was no tem- 
porary delusion of limited extent, but that the 
interests of the realm demanded its suppres- 
sion, for not only would it carry away the youth 
to destruction, but it would also produce con- 
fusion, disorder, and pillage. As Philip was 
endeavoring to reorganize and consolidate his 
kingdom, these representations succeeded in 
making him direct his attention to the move- 
ment. Yet it was a delicate thing to under- 
take to suppress a Crusade, although an affair 
of children. It might be really ordered by God, 
he reasoned, and the Pope might also take it 
under his protection and forbid all restraints 
upon it. It was a perplexing question, and 
therefore he referred it to the newly established 
University of Paris, that their wisdom might 
guide him. 



OPPOSITION AND ITS RESULTS 5 1 

After a consultation, in which they had to 
meet the fact that they might be accused of 
heresy, and where, in such an age of supersti- 
tion, the natural advice would have been that 
given by Gamaliel to the Sanhedrim, the doc- 
tors gave the sensible reply that the movement 
should be stopped, and, if needful, vigorous 
measures should be used. Accordingly the 
king issued an edict, commanding the children 
to return to their homes and abandon the mad 
enterprise. Whether he had received the letter 
which Stephen showed, we are not told. If he 
had, he doubtless gave little heed to its alleged 
authorship, as from the Saviour. 

But his decree had little effect. The matter 
had gone too far to be arrested by a command. 
Few could be found who wished, or who dared 
to enforce it, and it was unnoticed, except by 
those who were influenced to obey it, or by 
others who were glad to have an excuse for 
leaving the assembling bands, being already 
homesick and weary. ^ 

The king does not seem to have concerned 
himself any further about the affair, but in his 
many cares suffered his edict to remain un- 
enforced. It may be that he was unable to 

1 Concerning the King's conduct, see, among others, Chron- 
icle of Laon. 



52 THE RISING IN FRANCE 

carry it out, from want of instruments or from 
fear of the people. At any rate, the children 
continued to assemble unimpeded. 

There were naturally other influences brought 
to bear upon the young to restrain them. Par- 
ents who had not been carried away by the 
frenzy did not like to see their sons and 
daughters running to unknown dangers and 
hardships. Their reason as well as their affec- 
tion moved them to interfere. Yet persuasions, 
threats, and punishments were all as vain as 
had been the king's command. Bolts and 
bars could not hold the children. If shut up, 
they broke through doors and windows, and 
rushed, deaf to appeals of mothers and fathers, 
to take their places in the processions, which 
they saw passing by, whose crosses and ban- 
ners, whose censers, songs, and shouts, and 
paraphernalia seemed, like the winds of torrid 
climates, to bear resistless infection. If the 
children were forcibly held and confined, so 
that escape was impossible, they wept and 
mourned, and at last pined, as if the reced- 
ing sounds carried away their hearts and their 
strength. It was necessary to release them, 
and saddened parents saw them exultingly de- 
part, forgetting to say farewell. Regardless of 
the severance of tender ties, they ran to enlist 



OPPOSITION AND ITS RESULTS 53 

in those deluded throngs that knew not whither 
they went.i 

Opposition was also made by the faithful 
among the clergy. Knowing the certain issue 
of the scheme, and having hearts unwilling to 
see the young overcome by inevitable disas- 
ters, they endeavored to check the excitement. 
But their efforts were also vain, for opposed to 
them were others, the crafty and unprincipled 
priests, and the emissaries of the Pope, who 
rejoiced in the affair, because it was a means 
to excite the adults. Accordingly the cry of 
heresy was raised if any pious pastor used en- 
treaty or earnest warning, and he was accused 
of frustrating a holy cause. The people who 
believed in the delusion caught up the cry, and 
children adopted it, until opposition was si- 
lenced. In this way, between the designs of 
those who were to gain by the movement, the 
superstition of the masses, and the enthusiasm 
of the children, there was enough to overcome 
all efforts to arrest the daily spreading agita- 
tion. 

The serious and right-minded among the 
people were at a loss to understand so unpre- 
cedented a phenomenon, and endeavored to 
account for it in various ways. The generally 

1 Roger de Wendover and Rainer. 



54 THE RISING IN FRANCE 

received belief was that it was the result of 
magic, the devil's agency, the cause assigned 
for all remarkable and inexplicable events in 
these ages. To this did the University of 
Paris attribute it, and more than one chronicler 
quietly says, as a matter beyond question, that 
Satan was the author and guide of the affair. 

But among the many stories invented to ac- 
count for the event is one that, although be- 
yond all probability, yet is so strange that it 
deserves a passing notice, illustrating, as it 
does, the sentiment of the times. 

It is said by one chronicler, who believed it, 
that many held that the " old man of the 
mountain " had liberated two enslaved clerks, 
and sent them to France to bring back an army 
of children, as the price of their liberty, and 
that these had originated the present under- 
taking. 

That mysterious personage was the chief of 
the Assassins, who dwelt in an impregnable 
castle on a mountain in Syria. This sect of 
Mohammedans flourished but a short time, yet 
they were the terror of the world, on account 
of their wonderful devotion to their master, 
who hired them out to those desiring their 
services, and, in the execution of whose orders, 
treachery was praiseworthy, danger was de- 



OPPOSITION AND ITS RESULTS 55 

spised, and slaughter their habitual practice. 
The stealthiness and secrecy of their proceed- 
ings, and their remorseless thirst for blood, has 
caused their name to be adopted as the appel- 
lation of deliberate murderers. In order to 
secure such servants, who were called ArsacidcBy 
the chief trained them from infancy, by an 
education wherein every emotion of a tender 
nature was stifled, and fear of disgrace and of 
death obliterated. For such purposes, was it 
said, did he wish some children of France, and 
the hosts which were assembling were to be 
his prey. The horror in which the people 
stood of this man led them to believe the 
story. It is curious, and awakens memories of 
our own days of childish credulity, to find that 
the reigning ** old man of the mountain " at 
this time was the famous Aladdin, the story 
of whose wonderful lamp is told in the ** Ara- 
bian Nights." 1 

Still the movement went on, reproved by a 
few, applauded by many ; variously regarded 
as the work of God or of Satan. Through the 
cities and hamlets, by the Seine and the Ga- 
ronne, were seen the bands, marching with 
their banners, singing their songs, and telling 

1 Vincent de Beauvais explains the movement in this way, 
and Jourdaiti thinks it not improbable. 



5^ THE RISING IN FRANCE 

how they were " going to God and to get the 
Cross in Holy Palestine." 

As they passed by, the laborers left the 
fields and the artisans the shops ; all business 
was suspended, and they who did not join their 
numbers crowded to see them, in curiosity or 
in admiration. They were housed and fed for 
nought. Many gave this aid from kindness, 
others from sympathy in the enterprise, while 
few dared deny to such numbers any request 
which they might make. And so, before long, 
the various prophets could send word to Ste- 
phen that they would bring a vast army for 
him to command and to lead. 

But as the nature of the narrative requires 
that we follow the order of time, we now leave 
France in the ferment of the gathering, and 
turn to describe events which transpired in 
Germany. These we will trace to their end, 
and then return to Stephen and his followers. 



CHAPTER III 

THE GATHERING OF THE GERMAN CHILDREN 

The tidings of the preaching of Stephen and 
of his celestial mission were quickly carried 
eastward, and pilgrims returning from St. 
Denys told of him in Burgundy and Cham- 
pagne, whence the story spread to the lands 
along the Rhine. The people here had been 
subject to the same attempts to arouse them 
to interest in the Crusades which the French 
had experienced, and were as ready for the 
new delusion when it came, thanks to the 
activity of the papal emissaries with their 
litanies and their addresses. 

In a village near Cologne, whose name has 
not been recorded, there lived a boy who was 
to be the apostle of this Crusade in Germany, 
and play the part which Stephen acted in 
France. He was born in about the year 1200,^ 
and had been familiar with the prevailing ex- 
citement from his infancy, so that now he was 

^ Sicardi says he was " a boy less than ten years old." 



58 THE GATHERING OF 

full of interest in the Crusades, and at once 
was seized with a desire to emulate the young 
prophet of Cloyes, when the fame of this latter 
reached his ears. 

Nicholas, for we know no other name, is 
said to have been induced to assume the part 
of a prophet to preach the new Crusade by the 
influence of his father. It was not now a 
crafty priest, but a parent, who, knowing the 
precocity and the zeal of his son, saw that he 
would be a proper one to imitate the example 
of Stephen, and worked upon his young mind 
until the boy believed himself called by God to 
the task. The motive which influenced the 
father may have been a desire to see his child 
famous and great, that he might enjoy the re- 
flected honor ; or it may have been desire to 
profit by the event, and to rob the deluded vic- 
tims of his work. This latter prompting is the 
one that was ascribed to him by the people, 
for the old monk who saw all the progress of 
the affair tells us that he was *' a very wicked 
man ; " and the people of the region have left 
on record their opinion of his character in the 
summary vengeance that they meted out to 
him when the results of his work were appar- 
ent, as we will see at the close of the story. 

Probably directed by his father, Nicholas 



THE GERMAN CHILDREN 59 

went to Cologne, and there preached his mis- 
sion. There were the same reasons to rec- 
ommend it as a suitable place for the purpose, 
which made St. Denys such for Stephen : it 
was a great national shrine. 

Old Colonia had long been a great and in- 
fluential city, but it rose into new prominence 
when, in 1162, it became the religious centre 
of Germany. At that time its archbishop, 
Raynuldus, brought back as his share of the 
plunder from his clerical foray with Barbarossa 
to sack Milan, among other articles not men- 
tioned, the bones of the " Three Kings of the 
East." The legend of these who came " with 
a great multitude of camels to worshippe 
Christ, then a little childe of thirteen dayes 
olde," is one of the most noted of the mediaeval 
myths. The history of these particular bones, 
whether those of the Magi or not, begins with 
their removal to Constantinople by Helena, 
who discovered so many valuable relics of a 
sacred nature. The emperor Eustorgius took 
them from their shrine in Santa Sophia, and 
gave them to the archbishop of Milan, from 
whence Raynuldus carried them to his city in 
patriotic zeal. For a while they reposed in a 
splendid shrine in the cathedral which Charle- 
magne had built, until the present grand edi- 



60 THE GATHERING OF 

fice was constructed, where they still remain. 
From the very first there was great devotion 
paid to them, and the revered skeletons ^ 
listened as patiently to the supplications ad- 
dressed by the Germans, as they had to those 
which they had heard in Italy or Byzantium, 
yielding as ready attention, in a forgiving 
spirit, to those who had gained possession of 
them by war and robbery, as they had to those 
to whom they had been presented as gifts. 
Rightly or wrongly won, relics always hear the 
prayers of their de facto owners. This is a 
curious fact connected with them. 

In their common interest in this sacred 
place, the adherents of Otho and of Frederick 
forgot their feuds and quarrels, so that it was 
never more frequented than now, when Nicho- 
las went thither to proclaim his call to the 
great work of rescuing Palestine by children. 

What we know of his labors there is told us 
by Godfrey, an eye-witness, the compiler of a 
chronicle of that city. He was a monk, one of 
those who passed their lives in quiet cloisters, 
noting down events which transpired around 
them, illuminating missals, and praying venera- 
ble prayers. 

^ It was discovered by some skeptical Frenchman, during 
the wars of the first Republic, that one skull is that of a child 
having milk teeth. 



THE GERMAN CHILDREN 6 1 

According to his aggravatingly short record, 
Nicholas came to Cologne and at once began 
to preach. He had, as had his French brother, 
a story to tell of a supernaturally received 
charge, which was readily believed, as a confir- 
mation of his claims on their attention. He 
said that, as he was tending his flocks in the 
field, he saw a cross of blazing light in the sky, 
and heard a voice which told him that it was 
the pledge of his success in the holy war. ' His 
father had probably heard of the history of 
Constantine, or it was related to him by some 
priest who had found him a credulous tool. 

Through the throngs that filled the city he 
moved, telling what he was to do, or preach- 
ing from elevated stations to the gaping pil- 
grims, who, having swallowed the story of the 
bones, were ready for his lesser fable. The 
people and the children had been familiar with 
the incendiary labors of the envoys of Inno- 
cent, and the latter were as excited as those 
of France by the scenes which appealed to 
their ignorant and unreasoning minds. He 
therefore found the way paved for his success. 
The scene was still more suggestive and appro- 
priate for the theme than even St. Denys had 
been. He could point to the shrine of the 
Wise Men, glittering with gold and jewels, and 



62 THE GATHERING OF 

surrounded by precious votive offerings of un- 
disturbed pilgrims, and comparing this with the 
state of the sepulchre of that One, to their con- 
nection with whose history these men owed all 
their fame, ask if the children he saw, as well 
as the adults, were not as ready as those of 
France to endeavor to rescue the holier tomb 
from its ignominy, under the guidance of him 
whom the Lord had chosen to lead his servants 
thither. 

We can imagine the scene presented during 
these days of the spring of 12 12, when Nich- 
olas was gathering his followers and pleading 
his claims. We can see him by the door of 
the old Byzantine cathedral, which disappeared 
soon after that date, standing on a platform or 
on a pile of stones, addressing the crowds in 
motley attire who came to worship, and whose 
many quaint dialects and curious dresses repre- 
sented the different regions whence they had 
journeyed. They listened eagerly as he spoke, 
and discussed among themselves the new won- 
der. What stories were related of similar prod- 
igies which had been the theme of local pride 
in many a remote village ! What debates as 
to the probabiHties of the success of this new 
prophet ! What expressions of hope that this 
might solve the mystery which hung over the 



THE GERMAN CHILDREN 63 

fate of many friends who had been hurried away 
to the wars at the command of the baron who 
was their lord ! What eager thanks to God for 
his interference to end the cruel and hopeless 
struggle for the holy places ! Thus can we fancy 
the manifestation of the interest of the throngs 
that our little boy, so precocious and enthu- 
siastic, addressed. Among them we see old 
Godfrey moving, in his brown robe and sandals. 
He has come out to see how this restless, tur- 
bulent world is getting on, whose turmoil does 
not reach the seclusion and stagnation of the 
cloisters of St. Pantaleon, and is noting down 
in his mind the strange things he sees, that 
he may return to muse in his cell, or beneath 
some tree in the slumberous garden of the con- 
vent, upon the follies of men. At evening he will 
record, in his precious manuscript, along with 
the events of greater interest pertaining to the 
history of his peaceful asylum, what he deems 
worthy of mention among mundane affairs. 

The oblivion which covers all these busy 
scenes is well represented by the change that 
has come over the shrine of the Wise Men, 
which is edifying to the traveler who visits 
Cologne to-day. A century or more ago, the 
shrine — a golden box of great value which 
contains the bones — was removed from the 



64 THE GATHERING OF 

chief place in the cathedral to the eastern end, 
where, though more confined, there was room 
enough for the devotees who came in vastly di- 
minished numbers to worship where hosts had 
once knelt. But as the " ages of faith " became 
more and more remote, the numbers lessened. 
The days of pilgrimage were ended, save for 
a few stragglers that still lingered in the rear of 
the vanished crowds. Fewer and fewer they 
became, until one day the last faithful, credu- 
lous soul, whom we would love if we knew him, 
knelt alone, solitarily told his beads in lowest 
murmur, asked some petition which came from 
a heavy heart, then rose and went away, utter- 
ing an "Amen" that closed the prolonged 
prayer of centuries. 

The officials of the cathedral, wisely judging 
that the space might be better appropriated, 
and the remains be so arranged that the pil- 
grimages of curiosity, which took the place of 
those of piety, might be made profitable, moved 
the bones to a corner, where they are kept in 
a room, to which admittance is gained, not by a 
prayer, but by a thaler. The writer not long 
ago examined the gorgeous casket in company 
with a number of nineteenth-century priests, 
who calmly and curiously talked of its carvings 
and adornments, and, without a genuflection, 



THE GERMAN CHILDREN 65 

looked at the smooth skulls which the attend- 
ant exposed by opening a sliding panel. 

But let us come back to Nicholas and other 
days. From Cologne the excitement spread, 
as from St. Denys, by means of those who 
sought their different homes. The extent of 
country, however, in which the children rose, 
was limited, owing to the prevailing dissensions 
of a civil nature, and because the Emperor 
found it a part of his policy to suppress the 
matter where he could, and thus thwart the 
Pope, as well as retain his people for his armies. 
Yet, within the limits of the vicinity of the 
Rhine and the neighboring land of Burgundy, 
the commotion was greater than in France, as 
is shown by the proportionately greater num- 
ber that flocked to the Crusade. 

Nicholas was aided by other youths, who 
acted as lieutenants, and labored to gather ad- 
herents in their various districts, hoping to 
hold positions of rank. Of their names we 
have none preserved ; so many other and higher 
sounding ones occupied the pens of the chroni- 
clers that these were overlooked. 

Very noticeable is one feature of the appeals 
which Nicholas and his assistants used. The 
triumph promised and expected was one of 
peace. The Holy Land was not to be won by 



66 THE GATHERING OF 

battle nor restored to the Christian king by the 
slaughter of the Mohammedans, but the latter 
to be converted, and to accept, as believing sub- 
jects, the rule of the faith they had hated. In 
strange and touching contrast does this spirit 
stand out among the cruel and bloody memo- 
ries of the time. It awakens a peculiar interest 
to read that when they marched from place to 
place, gathering adherents, their watchword 
was one so different from the barbarous and 
ruthless mottoes which expressed the temper of 
Crusaders, for they sang, "We go to get the 
cross beyond the sea, and to baptize the Moslem 
infidels ! " i 

The excitement spread rapidly from town to 
town and from village to village, so that the 
bands which the *' minor prophets" collected 
were rapidly recruited, and successively led to 
the rendezvous at Cologne. The mania in- 
creased daily and overcame opposition. For 
opposition was made to those who would follow 
the young preachers, but with the same results 
as in France. Parents, friends, and pastors 
sought to restrain them by force or appeal, but 
they whose hearts w^ere set upon the enter- 
prise mourned and pined so, that we are told 
their lives were frequently endangered as by 

1 Gesta Treviroruniy Godfrey, and others. 



THE GERMAN CHILDREN 6/ 

disease, and it was necessary to allow them to 
depart. Many hoped that at last, at Cologne, 
the delusion would end, and various causes dis- 
perse the assemblage. 

The composition of the gathering bands 
was as motley as that of the companies that 
were collected for Stephen, — probably more 
so. There were numbers of unprincipled crea- 
tures that joined the ranks, led by various base 
motives, to gratify their propensity to thieving 
or to lust, and all the refuse of the region seems 
to have been drained, as we would naturally 
expect. It was an opportunity for such per- 
sons that was too good and too rare to be lost, 
and it was not lost. The number of depraved 
women that mingled with the armies was, it is 
told us, especially great, and to them is attrib- 
uted the greater part of the evils which ensued. 
The chroniclers refer frequently to them, and 
present a dark picture of the morals of the 
time.i We can well imagine how the people 
dreaded the approach of these bands. They 
not only feared lest their young would be car- 
ried away by the infection, which no authority 
or ties could overcome, but because with them 
came such a lawless, demoralizing rabble, that 
would steal and rob with impunity. 

1 Jacques de Vitry says : " Multi autem inter eos erant filii 
nobilium, quos ipsi etia,m cum meretricibus destinarant." 



6S THE GATHERING OF 

Nevertheless, the vast majority were prompt- 
ed by good, though mistaken motives. There 
were many reasons which would lead multi- 
tudes to a sincere desire to liberate the sepul- 
chre of the Saviour and purify his tomb from 
pagan control, and such as these were ready to 
undertake and to endure anything in order to 
promote that end. This swayed, undoubtedly, 
the mass of those children who persisted in the 
enterprise, while of course some were ruled by 
ambition, or by desire for independence of the 
restraints of home. 

With regard to the station of those who were 
gathered in the movement, there was great 
variety, all ranks being represented, led by 
promptings which appealed to each. There 
was a larger proportion of children of noble 
birth than was the case in France. Germany 
was always more alive to chivalrous excitement, 
and her nobility were more numerous. The 
country, particularly along the romantic Rhine, 
was studded with baronial halls, which were 
nurseries of daring and of knightly feeling. All 
the influences which would act on children of 
the lords to embark in this Crusade were thus 
especially potent, and there were more boys 
here than in France ready to go and combat 
the cruel Saracens, because a father or a brother 



THE GERMAN CHILDREN 69 

had fallen at their hands. Thus the excitement 
ran through the upper class, and Cologne, the 
home of many noble families, because a large 
and imperial city, is said to have lost so many 
children of rank, and to have furnished so many 
scions on whom fair hopes were placed, that 
the effects of the movement were felt for a long 
time after it had died away. 

As to age, there were very many adults in 
the assembling crowds, as we gather from va- 
rious statements of the chroniclers, and not only 
of those who joined them from lower motives, 
but many such were seized with the crusading 
spirit. They had become weary of the vain 
attempts to succeed in this terrible war, which 
had been made in the usual way ; and this new 
plan at once was regarded by them as that 
devised by God, and destined to triumph, 
where, very evidently, ordinary warfare was 
not to achieve the result. 

We are told, as an interesting feature, which 
shows that some attempt was made at disci- 
pline, that a uniform was generally adopted.^ 
It was an adaptation of the usual costume of pil- 
grims. They assumed a long coat, when pos- 
sible, of a gray color, and upon the breast was 
sewn a cross, as customary with the Crusaders ; 

1 Jacques de Vitry. 



70 THE GATHERING OF 

for they claimed this character as well as that 
of pilgrims. This latter aspect was further en- 
hanced by the carrying of a palmer's staff, and 
on their heads they wore broad-brimmed hats. 
There were many who but partially, if at all, 
adopted this costume, because they would not 
or could not procure it. Such a simple and 
quaint attire must have made a pleasing effect 
when a group marched by. 

In this way was the region around Cologne 
kept in a state of ferment, as the bands con- 
tinued to arrive at this central point, where 
Nicholas awaited them, until the time came for 
their departure for the Holy Land. Little 
over a month could have elapsed before the 
assembling was completed, and the various 
leaders had their recruits ready for the start, 
whether in the always crowded city, now 
doubly full, or in the towns and villages 
around. The greatness of the numbers col- 
lected in this brief period shows the enthusi- 
asm of the movement. That it must have been 
so brief is seen from the facts that Stephen 
began his work in the spring, then the tidings 
spread to the Rhine ; after this the gathering 
took place here, and these children marched to 
the Mediterranean, yet they reached that sea 
before the middle of August. 



THE GERMAN CHILDREN 7 1 

We now proceed to the next step in the 
prosecution of the Crusade, or pilgrimage. 
But here our narrative divides, for there was a 
division of the host assembled at Cologne, into 
two armies. The fate of that which started 
under the leadership of Nicholas will be first 
traced, and afterwards we will return to the 
fortunes of the other. 



CHAPTER IV 

THE ARMY OF NICHOLAS 

I 

To the Alps 

One fair morning of June or July, in the 
year of grace 121 2, our friend Godfrey, monk 
of St. Pantaleon, probably saw a strange scene, 
to which we have now come in the course of 
this narrative. Let us follow him out of the 
city, and witness with him what he beheld as 
the sun was gilding the towers of the churches, 
and still casting the long, westward-stretching 
shadows of early morning. Or, better, let us 
take our place on the walls, where we may 
stand, surrounded by eager crowds, and over- 
look the spectacle. 

Upon the plain before us is a dense, waving 
concourse of people, who issue from streets and 
lanes by the open gates, or who come from 
neighboring villages by paths and roads bor- 
dered by hedges still glistening with the dew. 
All ages and both sexes are represented, and 



TO THE ALPS 73 

all are intent upon some important matter, as 
their motions and their murmurs tell. In the 
mingled sounds which come to us, we perceive 
at times the refrain of a song, or the noise of 
altercation, while we hear also the lamentations 
of others, whose gestures express great sorrow. 
As we watch the scene, a discrimination is in 
progress, and many join the forming ranks of 
an army, whose insignia and banners become 
visible in regular array. At length all is ready. 
Nicholas takes his place as leader, and at a 
given signal the compact mass moves away, 
still followed by friends who would not cease 
to seek to arrest their beloved ones, and by 
the amazed eyes of the throngs upon the walls. 
Vain had been the efforts to stop the enterprise 
by parents, priests, and rulers. Too confident 
to be dissuaded, too reliant on their numbers 
to be intimidated, too elated to be discouraged, 
this band of twenty thousand children ^ com- 
menced its march toward Palestine. We watch 
them from our station, as they recede, until, 
behind some hill, the procession disappears, 
and the sound of their songs and their shouts 
sinks into silence in the distance. 

Their route lay along the Rhine. This re- 
gion was not then, as now, densely peopled 

1 Fasciculus Temporum, 



74 THE ARMY OF NICHOLAS 

and rendered romantic by frequent, picturesque 
ruins. It was almost a wilderness then, with 
an occasional castle rising from lofty crags that 
bear at present but a shattered tower or 
crumbling walls. Upon the lordly Drachen- 
fels, which stands as a sentinel at the portal of 
the valley of the Rhine, was the home of a wild 
Baron, whose relics are now the peaceful loiter- 
ing-place of the tourist ; and, as he saw the 
children wind across the fields, beyond the 
river, there arose in his mind pleasant thoughts 
of plunder. It was a subject of congratulation 
to the latter, that the Rhine rolled between 
them and those grim walls. At _Rolandse^k 
was Roland's Tower, which then, as now, 
looked down upon Nonnenwerth's beautiful 
green isle, cradled in the river. Gutenfels and 
Stahleck were the homes of rough men and 
fair women, to whom the lapse of centuries 
has. given associations which are very poetical, 
but who found their daily life as real and as 
prosaic as we find our own. Rheinstein, from 
its vine-clad height, frowned down upon the 
winding river which soon disappeared in a 
gorge, where the superstitious boatman saw in 
every nook and crevice an abode of dragons 
or of sprites. Here dwelt then old Siegfried, 
whose name is linked with many a weird 



TO THE ALPS 75 

legend. And thus were some of the storied 
spots of this wonderful stream then marked by 
castles above or towers below ; but, generally, 
the hillsides, at present so cultivated, and 
whence come to the tourist the songs of " peas- 
ant girls with dark blue eyes," were covered 
with dense forests, where wandered the stags 
and boars, the wolves and bears, whose pursuit 
formed, beside war, the only amusement of 
these rude men of old. 

As our children wander southward, let us 
seek to describe the manner of their march, 
and their experiences. 

Of all the strange armies which those days 
of strange sights had witnessed, this was the 
most notable. There were no mailed soldiers, 
who marched beneath feudal banners that had 
waved over battlefields in Europe and in Asia ; 
there were no chargers that carried strong war- 
riors who held well-used swords ; nor yet were 
there pilgrims of mature years, who had set 
out, unarmed, to pray in consecrated spots. It 
was an army of children, who were actually 
departing to recover possession of a land in 
whose behalf many a host had died in vain. 
In the van we see Nicholas, probably accom- 
panied by an escort and attendants. Then the 
line stretches with varying regularity for sev- 



76 THE ARMY OF NICHOLAS 

eral miles, and, over the uniformed ranks of 
little ones, rise the crosses and banners that 
are proudly carried. We see, among the num- 
bers, the many adults who desired to share the 
glory of the enterprise or to plunder and cor- 
rupt. There were women who came to profit 
in their baseness or suffer in their weakness, 
and girls who were destined to a bitter lot of 
shame, instead of a rest in Palestine. And 
priests and monks were there, some to rob, 
and some to pray. But the mass were boys of 
about twelve years of age.^ They gave char- 
acter to the army, and it is with them that we 
are concerned. They came from mansion and 
from hovel, from luxury and from want ; the 
pedigree of princes was possessed by those 
who walked by the side of humble serfs. 

As they marched along, they beguiled the 
time with narrative and song. As to the for- 
mer, there was among them a store which was 
not soon exhausted. 

The children from the castle told of knightly 
deeds by men of famous names, and to the 
more credulous peasants, repeated what they 
had so often heard from their proud kindred, 
who had won such fame in conflict. They 
who had never before spoken with the de- 

1 Sicardi. 



TO THE ALPS 'J'J 

spised boor forgot their station, and wearied 
not to answer questions concerning the life of 
the noble born, which had been almost as 
sacred and revered in the cabins of the lowly 
as the associations of the Holy Land. The 
serf-child could only tell of obscurer feats of 
arms and of less exalted deeds, which his kin- 
dred had known ; but yet each was ready to 
hear the wonderful stories of the other. In 
this way, throughout the host, the spirit of the 
cause was kept alive, and their minds were in- 
flamed into resolution to surpass the achieve- 
ment of squire, and knight, and baron. The 
fame of the heroes who had fallen, to be im- 
mortal in song, or who had survived to receive 
the love of woman and the envy of man, was 
yet to pale before the lustre of the deeds of 
God's own army. 

And songs, too, whiled away the tedious 
hours of wandering, as well as aided in sustain- 
ing their spirits. Chroniclers expressly say 
that singing formed a marked feature in their 
journey. They sang many lyrics which re- 
turned pilgrims and warriors had taught them, 
but which, it is sad to say, have been lost. 
They also composed many of their own, which 
have shared the same fate. It is natural to 
wish most earnestly that some of these had 



y8 THE ARMY OF NICHOLAS 

survived, that thence we might learn some- 
thing of the children's feelings, and that we 
might enter into a fuller sympathy with them, 
in reading the words which conveyed their 
emotions. But, although we have not the 
language of these songs, we can well imagine 
their themes. The constant subjects were the 
restoration of the Holy Sepulchre, and the 
glory of that triumph. We need not labor 
much to realize the ardor which nerved them 
to endure fatigue, when, their little hearts 
bounding with excitement, they shouted in 
spirited tunes the expressions of the hopes and 
dreams of years. 

From the oblivion of ages there has sur- 
vived, however, only one of the hymns which 
were sung by them. It was brought by the 
recruits from Westphalia, and had been sung 
by many a pilgrim before, on the way to Pales- 
tine. Its words and air, so well adapted to 
this present assemblage, made it popular, and 
it delights the Christian of to-day by the evi- 
dence which it affords that there lingered yet 
some appreciation of the truth of the Gospel, 
some love to the Saviour. It seems as a gleam 
of light in the darkness of the age. Listen, 
then, children of the nineteenth century, to 
words which other children sang, as they 



TO THE ALPS 7g 

marched along the Rhine, nearly seven hun- 
dred years ago. 

Let us quote it first in the original, in which 
these little crusaders were wont to sing it, hav- 
ing modernized its antique German : — 

" Schonster Herr Jesus, 

Herrscher aller Erden, 
Gottes und Maria Sohn ; 

Dich will ich lieben, 

Dich will ich ehren, 
Du, meiner Seele Freud' und Kron ! 

" Schon sind die Felder, 
Noch schoner sind die Walder, 

In der schonen Friihlingszeit ; 
Jesus ist schoner, 
Jesus ist reiner, 

Der unser traurig Herz erfreut. 

" Schon leuchtet die Sonne, 
Noch schoner leuchtet der Monde, 

Und die Sternlein allzumal j 
Jesus leuchtet schoner, 
Jesus leuchtet reiner, 

Als all' die Engel im Himmelsaal." 

TRANSLATION. 

" Fairest Lord Jesus, 

Ruler of all nature, 
Thou of Mary and of God the Son ! 

Thee will I cherish, 

Thee will I honor, 
Thee my soul's glory, joy, and crown ! 



80 THE ARMY OF NICHOLAS 

" Fair are the meadows, 

Fairer still the woodlands, 
Robed in the blooming garb of spring : 

Jesus is fairer, 

Jesus is purer, 
Who makes our saddened heart to sing. 

" Fair is the sunshine. 

Fairer still the moonlight, 
And the sparkling, starry host ; 

Jesus shines brighter, 

Jesus shines purer, 
Than all the angels heaven can boast." 

How welcome is such a hymn from the past 
ages, and how does it add to our interest in these 
youths who used it ! ^ 

Thus singing their songs, they passed on 
southwards, seeking Palestine. But it is nat- 
ural to inquire if they did not know that the 
Mediterranean intervened ; and if so, how did 
they expect to cross it } Did their leaders not 
have an answer ready for this question } We 
find, as a feature of curious interest, that they 
who had excited and promoted the Crusade had 
promised that the Lord would provide a path- 

1 For an account of the discovery of this hymn, see Evan- 
gelical Christendom for May, 1850. This was a magazine for- 
merly issued in London, and to its editors I am indebted for 
a copy. The hymn has since been published in various col- 
lections of sacred music in the above version, which is that 
made by the author of the article in the magazine referred to. 
Hecker asserts that it was used by the children. 



TO THE ALPS 8 1 

way through that great sea to the land beyond 
its waters. Availing themselves of a home 
argument, they pointed to the fearful drought 
which is recorded to have prevailed that sum- 
mer, as evidence from Heaven that the army 
was to pass, like Israel's hosts, through the 
sea, for they said that the Mediterranean was 
drying up for this end. This was asserted in 
reply to the natural objections that there would 
not be enough vessels to carry such a vast num- 
ber, or that, if they were obtained, the young 
pilgrims would lack money to pay for their 
transportation and their food. The story was 
believed, and the children were buoyed up and 
encouraged on the march by the anticipation 
of so signal an interference in their behalf. 
Surely, said they, if we are thus to triumph over 
the deep waters, as did the people of God in old 
times, we must win an equal success, and rest 
in the same land, by virtue of the same divine 
aid. 

They journeyed onward through the domains 
of the lords and nobles who owed allegiance 
to France, or to the Empire. Their fame may 
have preceded them, or it may not, yet their 
arrival was always the signal of commotion in 
every village, where they won new recruits from 
the astonished and enraptured children. Each 



82 THE ARMY OF NICHOLAS 

member of the host told, in his own words, the 
same tale of a celestial call and of a certain suc- 
cess, and repeated, with embellishments of his 
own invention, the appeal in behalf of the de- 
filed Tomb of Christ. If night overtook them 
by any town or hamlet, they sought shelter 
where they could find it. One chronicler tells 
us that no city on the way could contain the 
army. Some- slept in houses, where the kind- 
hearted or the sympathizing invited them to 
rest ; others reposed in the streets and market- 
places ; while they who could find no space 
within, lay down without the walls. But if, as 
was generally the case, the darkness found them 
in the open country, they passed the night in 
the barns and hovels, under the trees of the 
forest, or on the green bank of some stream, 
and the angel of sleep closed their heavy eye- 
lids under the starlight. The day's march was 
wearisome to little ones who had never before 
been out of sight of home, and therefore they 
soon fell asleep, wherever it was. When morn- 
ing came, they ate whatever they had in their 
wallets, or what they begged or bought as they 
went. The line of march was again formed, the 
banners unfurled, the crosses uplifted, and, with 
the morning song, they began another day of 
fatigue. At noon they rested by some brook to 



TO THE ALPS 83 

eat their scanty meal and quench their thirst, 
and again started to wander on through the 
quiet hours of afternoon, until the welcome sun- 
set reminded them that they had passed an- 
other stage of their journey to distant — oh, so 
distant ! — Palestine. 

But their great trials soon began. After 
what we have learned of the mingled elements 
in the army, it does not surprise us to learn that 
the evil-disposed spread every kind of misery, 
and that there ensued all sorts of demoraliza- 
tion. Those children who had any money were 
robbed or cheated of it, and they who had only 
food in their wallets soon had that stolen by 
the hangers-on and thieves. The depraved 
men and women gave way to their passions, 
so that vice grew daily, and parts of the camp 
became scenes of sin and lust. The disorders 
were increased by the rivalries of subordinate 
leaders, until at last they moved on, but little 
more than a loose, lawless concourse, without 
chiefs and without discipline. Consequently, 
they were at the mercy of those who for vari- 
ous reasons saw fit to molest them, and with 
impunity the wild barons could swoop down 
upon them from their fastnesses, and seize as 
many as they would, to hold them in harsh ser- 
vitude, or else to sell them for profit. 



84 THE ARMY OF NICHOLAS 

They reached at length the territory now 
called Switzerland, but which was then a con- 
glomeration of petty lordships, most of them be- 
ing subject to the Duke of Burgundy, but many 
belonging to the emperor. Threading its beau- 
tiful valleys, and passing along its foaming 
rivers, they came to the shores of Lake Leman, 
and encamped by the walls of Geneva. Thence 
they sought the Alps, which rose grand and im- 
posing before them. To cross those trackless 
heights was now the task to which the poor lit- 
tle children were to address themselves. Weary 
and worn, singing and sighing, they neared the 
dark mountains on whose summits rested the 
eternal snows. 

II 

The Passage of the Mont Cents 

Other causes than those already referred to 
had tended to diminish the numbers of the 
youthful army. As we hurry, by railroad or 
steamboat, through the regions they traversed, 
we have to exert our imagination to form an 
accurate picture of the condition of those lands 
at the date of which we are speaking. The 
population of Europe was very sparse, probably 
not one tenth of its present amount, and it was 



THE PASSAGE OF THE MONT CENIS 85 

generally restricted to the vicinity of cities. 
Tracts now thickly peopled and smiling with 
crops were uninhabited and untilled, and in 
them animals roamed unmolested. The few 
highways which led from city to city were 
wretched and devious, passing through dense 
forests, and by haunts of robbers who could, 
with no terror of law, plunder the unguarded 
traveler. 

Journeying through countries such as those 
on the route which they followed, where popu- 
lation was scanty even for those times, produced 
terrible effects among the children. In fording 
streams where there were no bridges, many 
are said to have been drowned. We are also 
told that the wild beasts seized many an unwary 
or worn-out straggler. They often found them- 
selves in these unpeopled regions without any 
food, and then they had nothing to eat but the 
wild fruit and berries by the wayside, so that 
starvation ended the lives of numbers, whose 
exhausted frames easily yielded to its pangs. 
Disease, produced by constantly recurring cir- 
cumstances, tended also to thin the ranks. And 
from all these sorrows resulted the chief cause 
of the diminution of the army, which was deser- 
tion. Weary and discouraged, they fell away at 
every step, and sought their homes in groups. 



86 THE ARMY OF NICHOLAS 

As far as can be ascertained, about one half 
of the original number remained when they 
came in sight of the Alps, which towered be- 
fore them, peak beyond peak. 

The route they selected was that over the 
Mont Cenis, which, in the Middle Ages, was 
the most frequented of all the passes into Italy. 
Into the heart of the mountains, then, the chil- 
dren plunged, where was a sparse population 
that tilled the valleys, and dwelt by the foaming 
torrents, gathering scanty crops from the little 
meadows which lay, here and there, between the 
streams and the rocks. But in these people our 
Crusaders found enemies instead of friends. 
For they were, we are told, to a great extent 
heathen and even idolaters, as were many of the 
inhabitants of the Alps up to this date, and the 
records of the time contain allusion to their 
constant depredations upon pilgrims and trav- 
elers. In the Valais there were numbers of 
Saracen Mohammedans, who had penetrated 
thither from the sea on forays, and had re- 
mained, unable or unwilling to return.^ Through 
these hostile ravines the army persevered until 
the ascent began in earnest. New trials now 
commenced, which rendered those of the past 
insignificant. The road was merely a narrow, 

1 Michaud's Crusades. 



THE PASSAGE OF THE MONT CENTS 8/ 

stony path over streams and along precipices, 
over dreary mountain slopes, where grew only 
the heather and rhododendron, or over fields of 
unmelted snow. 

The chronicles of the time abound in narra- 
tives of the perils encountered in the Alps, by 
those journeying, not for pleasure, but on vari- 
ous errands. There were merchants seeking 
their marts, soldiers seeking the battlefields or 
their homes, ecclesiastics passing to and from 
Rome. In view of the great amount of travel 
produced by the relations between the Pope 
and Northern Europe, by the pilgrim spirit that 
has long since almost died away, ^ by the cease- 
less plying of diplomacy, and by other causes 
peculiar to the Middle Ages, there is reason to 
believe that the passes over the Alps were 
probably as much frequented then as they are 
now. Consequently the frequency of incidents 
of suffering was far greater when there were no 
roads as at present, but only rude bridle-paths. 

Among the most remarkable of all the pas- 
sages on record was that of Henry IV., with 
his wife and child, when he was on his way to 
Canossa to humiliate himself before the Pope. 
His experience casts light on that of the chil- 
dren. His route was also over the Mont Cenis. 

1 In 1350, 1,200,000 pilgrims visited Rome. 



88 THE ARMY OF NICHOLAS 

Vast quantities of snow had fallen, and for 
several weeks no one had ventured to cross 
to or from Italy. At length the emperor se- 
cured reluctant guides, and started with many 
attendants. The ascent was toilsome and terri- 
ble. The empress, with her babe, was dragged 
over the snow on ox-hides, and wrapped in 
furs. The descent was still more perilous. The 
horses and mules were lowered from ledge 
to ledge, or else their feet were tied, and then 
they were suffered to slide down the icy slopes. 

Over the cliffs and precipices many a guide 
and servant fell, to be found no more. It was 
through such untold terrors and hardships that 
the subdued ruler of Germany passed to meet 
the stern presence of the Pope, his rival and 
his conqueror. Well has it been said that " he 
would be a hardy mountaineer, even now, who 
would undertake such a journey, unless a soul 
or an empire were at stake." 

Many of the children who had not yielded 
under the past trials, now felt they could do 
no more. The rocks cut their shoeless feet ; 
the air of sunless chasms chilled them ; while 
they saw that there was no hope of food or rest 
until the pass were traversed. Group after group 
then sadly turned their faces homeward, their 
ardor for the Sepulchre and the Land quenched 



THE PASSAGE OF THE MONT CENIS 89 

by this revelation of what lay in the path by 
which they must be reached. 

We may briefly follow, by the aid of scanty 
records and conjecture, the adventures of those 
who resolved to brave the passage. It lasted 
several days and nights, longer than usual, as 
they were disorganized, and their sufferings 
during this period surpassed powers of descrip- 
tion. 

The children of wealthy or noble families 
had been provided, we are told, with attendants 
who carried supplies of food and clothing, and 
thus were these enabled to endure the hard- 
ships of the way. But as these cases were al- 
most exceptional, there was little done in this 
way to lessen the trials of the mass. The others 
suffered severely from the want of food, and 
in this state were entirely unequal to the ex- 
hausting labor of climbing difficult ascents. 
They had left home in the summer, when their 
raiment was thin ; it had become scanty and 
ragged in the long and dusty march, so that 
they were exposed to the full severity of the 
cold. Onward they toiled, hungry and tired, 
disheartened and discouraged by the gloomy 
mountain scenery, and by the ever new revela- 
tion of other heights beyond those they had 
thought the last. On, through black forests of 



90 THE ARMY OF NICHOLAS 

pines and firs, through moors, over ridges, leap- 
ing from stone to stone, as they met a stream, 
across treacherous snows into which they sank, 
and which froze their feet, and over jagged 
rocks which lacerated them, traveled this deci- 
mated band of children, which, a short month 
before, had departed from the walls of Cologne 
with exultant hearts and gleaming eyes. 

No scene was more impressive and character- 
istic than that presented as they stopped to rest 
at evening. Glad, and yet sorrowful, to see the 
sun set, they ceased the weary walk, wherever 
the darkness overtook them. They ate the 
little bread that was left, drank of the thirst- 
provoking snow-water, and then, in their wet 
and ragged clothing, lay down upon the heather 
or the rocks. They who were so fortunate as to 
find any wood, made a fire, around which they 
crowded for protection from the piercing cold, 
that came in blasts from the gorges and glaciers 
above them. What pen can describe the emo- 
tions of those children, as they thus prepared 
to sleep, while they thought of their distant 
dear ones and of the comforts they had so will- 
fully abandoned ! 

What a sight did the Spirit of the Alps behold, 
as he saw these encampments, where, under the 
cold and solemn starlight, or in the chilly rain, 



THE PASSAGE OF THE MONT CENTS 9 1 

thousands of boys and girls lay sleeping, and, 
in dreams of home and of the Holy Land, 
whence they were to return in triumph, forget- 
ting the trials of the day which had closed, and 
those to come with the morrow ! How many 
fell into the sleep that knows no waking, and, 
when comrades rose to start in the morning, 
remained cold and stiff where they had dropped 
at evening ! They could not be buried in the 
frozen earth ; their bodies were left to moulder 
away to dust. 

At the summit of the pass of Mont Cenis 
there was, as there is still, a monastery, where 
already, for four hundred years, kind monks 
had dwelt, to furnish food to the pilgrims and 
travelers who had ventured on the journey 
unprovided, or who needed somewhere to rest 
at night or a refuge from the storm. They 
also acted as missionaries to the heathen pop- 
ulation around them, and performed the ne- 
cessary offices of religion for the Christians. 
Rejoiced must the young Crusaders have been 
to reach this Hospice, which not only gave 
them food and partial shelter, but also reminded 
them that the worst of the journey was accom- 
plished, the most dreaded obstacles surmounted, 
and . that the exhausting ascent was now to 
be exchanged for descent. 



92 THE ARMY OF NICHOLAS 

After a brief stay, they passed on. As at 
length a turn in the path showed them the 
plains at the foot of the mountain, how the 
sight thrilled them ! They saw the rivers, 
which looked like threads of silver through 
green fields of tapestry, and villages and vine- 
yards, that formed a scene of cultivation and of 
beauty which was unknown in their northern 
home. With renewed strength, they rushed 
downwards until they trod the soil of Italy. 

The present territory of Piedmont was, in 
those days, divided into many small states, in- 
dependent and proud, but generally owing alle- 
giance to the Duke of Savoy, or to the Marquis 
of Montserrat. Through these domains lay 
the path of the army, and it was a path of con- 
tinued trial. They had hoped that, with the 
passage of the Alps, their sufferings would 
end ; but they had now to endure trials of 
another nature. The Italians were embittered 
against the Germans, owing to the constant 
wars carried on by the emperors, and when 
these children were in their power, they visited 
upon them the sins of their fathers They 
were subjected to cruelties of every sort. 
They were refused entrance to the towns ; the 
lords seized many of them, whom they carried 
away to hold as slaves, disregarding the voice 



THE PASSAGE OF THE MONT CENTS 93 

of the Church and of humanity. The army 
hurried from peril to peril, through a land to 
which they had looked forward so hopefully. 
At length they reached a mountain range, from 
whose summit they saw, in its beautiful amphi- 
theatre and facing its noble bay, Genoa *' the 
proud." There was the sea, blue and bound- 
less, which they had never beheld before, and, 
on the shore, bathed in the sunlight, lay a city 
which seemed a vision of fairy-land to their 
eyes, accustomed only to the scanty splendor 
of Germany. 

The effect of this sight can be easily im- 
agined. The youngest and weariest were 
strong again, and the departed were pitied, as 
the goal of the journey lay before the crusad- 
ing army. Banners, which had been furled in 
despondency, were raised again to float in the 
seaborn air. Crosses were again held aloft in 
exultation. Songs were resumed, which had 
not been heard for many a tearful day, and 
hymns of triumph were shouted as hopefully 
as when they had been heard by the distant 
City of the Kings. Discords were forgotten. 
Nicholas, whose sway had been disregarded, 
was again their prophet and leader, and again 
were stories of triumph and of glory on every 
lip, and dreams of fame in every heart. No 



94 THE ARMY OF NICHOLAS 

more Alps ! No more wilderness ! No more 
want, fatigue, and suffering ! Only the path 
through the sea remains to be traversed, and 
then we will tread the shores of Palestine ! 
Thus did the children exclaim, as they saw, 
from the hills whereon they stood, the towers 
and palaces of Genoa. 

Ill 

Genoa 

On Saturday, the twenty-fifth day of August, 
in the year 12 12, the army of children stood 
by the gates of Genoa, begging in the name of 
Christ and the Cross for admission, that they 
might rest after a journey of seven hundred 
miles.^ 

It was not such a band as had left the banks 
of the Rhine. Of the twenty thousand, but 
seven thousand remained under the guidance 
of Nicholas.^ Where were the rest .? They 
slept by every torrent, in every forest, on every 
hillside along the weary way. The route 
through Burgundy and Switzerland, and over 
the mountain paths, was marked by their 

1 Ogerius Panis, " Die Sabbati, VIII. Kal. Sept." Vin- 
cent de Beauvais also gives this date. 

2 Sicardi and Ogerius Panis. 



GENOA 95 

graves or by their unburied corpses. Many 
had returned in sorrow to the homes they had 
left in enthusiasm, and others who had found 
new homes or had been kidnapped, were never 
more to see, or to desire to see, the scenes 
of infancy. Only the most determined and 
robust were left, and as a consequence there 
stood by Genoa the flower of the youth of the 
Rhine-lands, who had become rugged and 
strong ; the weak and sickly having been 
sifted out by the experiences of the way. The 
same causes which had forced the feeble to re- 
linquish the enterprise or had exhausted them, 
had contributed to purge the band of the dis- 
solute and depraved. Those who had enlisted 
merely with the desire to escape parental re- 
straint and to indulge their sinful propensities, 
would not be expected to endure the continued 
hardships, and, as soon as the attendant diffi- 
culties exceeded the gratification which they 
derived, they had turned their backs on the 
band, and either sought their homes readier to 
submit to rule, or else, as was the case with 
many, remained in the cities along the route, 
where they grew up in vilest habits, and where 
they swelled the ranks of the depraved. Like- 
wise did the adults who had joined to plunder 
and to demoralize, shrink from fatigue, and 



96 THE ARMY OF NICHOLAS 

seek other spheres for plying their arts, al- 
though not until they had worked great misery. 
In all respects, the army was therefore purified 
by its trials. 

But very changed was the appearance of the 
seven thousand. Their garments were tattered 
and faded, their feet shoeless and wounded. 
Their faces had been burned by the sun and 
the snow, and their expressions saddened by 
sorrow. Yet they were capable of more endur- 
ance than they had been at first, and they were 
buoyed up by new confidence as they reached 
the shore of the Mediterranean. 

Genoa was at this time at the height of hei' 
prosperity, and shared with Venice and Pisa 
the commerce of Europe. Not yet had her. 
decadence begun. It was to be a hundred 
years before, in that long war, the Lion of St. 
Mark was to humble her, after that she had 
herself crushed her rival, Pisa. Now her port 
was filled with the shipping of all climes. 
Her merchant princes dwelt in palaces, many 
of which yet astonish the stranger. Her Sen- 
ate surpassed in dignity all other governments, 
and the state of her Doges excelled in pomp 
that of the monarchs of Europe, with whom 
they treated as equals. Many a score of gal- 
leys rode at anchor in her fair harbor, ready to 



GENOA 97 

avenge her insults and to preserve her colonies. 
Her territory extended far into the interior, for 
the Republic, though a city, owned wide domains, 
from whence came her soldiers and her food. 

Before the august body which governed this 
state came the petition of Nicholas and his 
army, that they might sleep within the walls 
but one night. They asked not to remain 
longer. They could not tarry, as they were in 
haste to reach the Holy Land, to whose shores 
duty and desire impelled them. Nor did they 
ask for galleys, or for vessels of any kind, to 
transport them thither. On the morrow, the 
sea which Genoa had failed to curb was to be 
divided by the Lord, and this army was to 
march dry-shod to the coast it sought. God 
had chosen that city as the place of this mira- 
cle, and the astonished Senators were warned, 
lest they refuse to aid those so signally under 
the care of Omnipotence. 

The authorities heard the petition, and, in 
mingled wonder and pity, they considered it. 
But they did not hesitate long. Sympathy 
with the deluded youths moved them to con- 
sent that they might tarry six or seven days for 
rest and refreshment, for surely, said the Sen- 
ators, they will return homewards when they 
discover their deception. 



98 THE ARMY OF NICHOLAS 

Eagerly did the boys receive the permission, 
and exultingly did they enter the city, where 
they anticipated enjoying such repose as they 
had not known since they had started from 
Cologne. They marched through the stately 
streets, regarding in amazement the sumptu- 
ousness visible on every hand, and thinking of 
the meanness of their own less favored homes. 
What a change was this from desert wilds and 
Alpine heights ! 

Their joy and wonder were equaled by the 
astonishment of the inhabitants, when they 
saw defiling through the gates, and crowding 
the streets, so many fair-haired children, who, 
carrying banners and crosses, sang in spirited 
songs their determination to rescue the Holy 
Sepulchre, to achieve which they had come 
from far beyond the Alps, under the guidance 
of a child. The merchant left his desk, the 
young ceased their play, the maidens gazed in 
wonder or in tenderness, the grave nobles were 
moved to surprise, as these blue-eyed youths 
from the Rhine passed by. 

But, when once the permission to enter had 

been accorded by the Senate, they resolved on 

that same day to rescind it. There were three 

reasons which were imperative.^ In the first 

1 For this action of the Senate, and the motives which 



GENOA 



99 



place there was to be feared the effect upon 
the morals of the city that might be produced 
by seven thousand unrestrained boys. In a 
short time they might, relying on their num- 
bers, give way to lawlessness, and introduce 
results which the jealous government well 
knew how to dread. Again, the Senate feared 
lest so sudden an addition to the population 
might produce a famine, for, situated as Genoa 
was, there was never any great superabundance 
of food. But the last and principal reason 
which weighed with the Senators was political. 
The Emperor Otho was, as we have seen, at 
war with the Pope, and in the contest Genoa 
was ranged on the Guelph or papal side. This 
had been its party for many years, and the 
name of German had become odious. The 
adults had. learned to cherish this animosity in 
their experience of the rigor of the wars of 
Barbarossa, and the young had been trained to 
regard the coarse " Tedescas " as enemies of 
the Church, enemies of Italy, and as panting 
to lay hands on fair Genoa, as they had so 
ruthlessly done upon Milan. To shelter Ger- 
man children, then, although ostensibly on a 
Crusade, would be to harbor foes, and to care 

ruled them, see Sicardi, Ogerius Panis, Petrus Bizarus, 
Ubertus Folietus, Jacques de Vitry. 



100 THE ARMY OF NICHOLAS 

for a hated race, which the Pope had declared 
outlawed. Why might they not, the Genoese 
mob exclaimed, be emissaries of Otho, and en- 
deavor to seize the city for him ? But, more 
potent in the minds of the Senators than these 
fanatical cries of the populace, was the consid- 
eration that Innocent might take it in bad part 
if they sheltered so many Germans, whose ob- 
ject, so absurd, might be doubted. To use a 
modern phrase, it would not give as clear a 
record as they wished. It might be used 
against them by some rival for the favor of the 
Pope. 

The result of the deliberations was that the 
authorities told the children that they could 
only remain one night ; on the ixiorrow they 
must depart from the territory of the Republic. 
But, that mercy might not be denied them, 
exceptions would be made for those who should 
desire to remain permanently, and, giving up 
their wild scheme, promise to become good 
citizens. This was politic, for it might secure 
an infusion of strong and robust blood into the 
population, in which respect the hardy North- 
erners were the envy of the enervated dwellers 
in warmer lands. 

The confident youths received the command 
in derision, and laughed at the offer to give 



GENOA 10 1 

those who desired it a home. " We only ask 
to rest one night. To-morrow you shall see 
how God cares for his army ! Who would 
remain here, when there lies a path in the sea, 
between emerald walls, to the land where glory 
waits us ? " Thus they cried as they prepared 
to sleep that night, in the houses or in the 
streets, and with hopeful, proud thoughts they 
closed their eyes at evening. 

The night passed away. In the morning 
they rose to rush to the seashore and behold 
the new way upon its bed. But that sea rolled 
as yesterday ; no miraculous chasm yawned to 
receive their eager footsteps. They looked in 
despair out upon the blue and sparkling waves, 
which danced in mockery, and learnt at last 
how terribly they had been deceived. Hours 
wore away, but brought no change. They then 
had to prepare, with disappointed hearts, to 
leave the city, and to deliberate upon the next 
step to be taken. 

But the once derided offer of the Senate was 
not fruitless now. Many who had become 
awakened to an appreciation of their deception, 
and who could not resist the argument of that 
undivided sea, resolved to remain in Genoa. 
They could not tear themselves away from the 
comforts of the city, to encounter a renewal of 



102 THE ARMY OF NICHOLAS 

hardships, such as they had experienced. No, 
here would they stay, and, as well as they could, 
secure a luxurious home among scenes so dif- 
ferent from their own abodes, which, if they 
could reach them, would now appear squalid 
and mean, in a cold land, where were no figs, 
no oranges, no vineyards. How many remained 
we are not told. It is stated by the chroniclers 
that there were a large number, and, which 
is passing strange, we are informed that many 
of the youths rose to wealth and eminence, 
founding pedigrees which ranked high in the 
state, among whom was the princely house of 
Vivaldi. ^ Those of noble rank naturally found a 
home with their own class, and so to-day even, 
many a Genoese, who rejoices in a proud title, 
may trace his ancestry back to some boy who, 
born by the Rhine, had been led by a mighty 
delusion to find a new home by the Mediterra- 
nean. 

Those who desired to stay having secreted 
themselves, the rest of the band mournfully 
quitted the city where their hopes had been 
so cruelly shattered, amidst the jeers or the pity 
of the spectators, who lined the streets and the 
walls to see them depart, as they had done to 
see them arrive. 

1 Sicardi and Petrus Bizarus. 



TO ROME 103 

IV 

To Rome 

On Sunday, August 26th, the army which 
had so hopefully and proudly entered Genoa on 
the preceding day, issued with sad hearts from 
its gates.^ 

What is to be done now? they asked, as 
they gathered in the fields to deliberate. They 
could not return. No, better remain and die in 
sunny Italy, than perish in the mountains and 
the wilds which lay between them and home. 
The memory of the past two months was too 
vivid to allow any to desire to repeat their ex- 
periences. 

But encouraging voices said : " Why yield to 
despondency ? Are there no other cities which, 
more hospitable, will give us shelter and vessels 
to transport us to Palestine } Or, why think 
that Genoa was meant to be the place at which 
the way through the sea was to be made } It 
may be elsewhere ! Let us push on to the 
southward, until we find the passage which God 
has promised ! " In this way they revived their 
drooping hopes, and thought that theirs might 
yet be the happy destiny of kneeling on the sa- 

1 Ogerius Panis, " Die Dominica sequente." 



104 ^^^ ARMY OF NICHOLAS 

cred soil of Israel, and returning from a suc- 
cessful Crusade. 

Resolved to march by land, as far as they 
could, in the direction of Palestine, they turned 
their faces eastward, and soon the people of 
Genoa saw them pass out of sight over the 
hills. Their spirit was broken, however, and 
the disintegration, which had ceased for a while, 
was renewed. The people by the way induced 
many to remain, and compelled others. Many 
became daily more willing to secure homes in 
so fair a land, and to exchange weary marching 
for repose. 

And henceforth discipline seems to have 
been lost ; they became an unregulated, head- 
less band. Nicholas is not heard of again. It 
is not probable that his authority survived 
the disappointment at Genoa, where his many 
prophecies had been so signally falsified. He 
may have remained in that city, or he may 
have departed from it with the army, but we 
can feel sure that he was no more the revered 
prophet that he had been. 

Struggling on, the band of pilgrims jour- 
neyed through the mountain roads which lie 
to the eastward of Genoa. After many hard- 
ships, they reached Pisa, and gladly hailed its 
appearance, thinking it might be the hoped-for 



TO ROME 105 

termination of their march. This city was 
then the rival of Genoa, and almost always its 
enemy in war. It was at this time in its prime. 
The streets, at present so deserted, which sad- 
den the visitor by their silence, were full of 
busy life, and the Arno bore on its bosom 
countless vessels laden with the produce of all 
lands. On the quays and in the thoroughfares 
were seen as common things the bright and 
quaint costumes of the East and the dark-hued 
children of warmer climes, who sojourned here 
for purposes of traffic ; but that which aston- 
ished the stranger most of all was meeting 
camels in the streets. Slaves of all races 
tugged the oar of far-wandering ships, and 
bore witness to the prowess and the wealth of 
Pisa. 

There stood then, new and fresh, the won- 
derful Cathedral and Baptistery, with the lean- 
ing Campanile, and, in the exquisite Church of 
Santa Maria by the river, the sailors prayed 
and gave votive offerings as they departed or 
as they returned from sea. 

Concerning their reception and stay in Pisa, 
we know but little. That they were kindly re- 
ceived may be inferred in a twofold way. In 
the first place, that Genoa had expelled them 
would be a title to the hospitality of Pisa. 



I06 THE ARMY OF NICHOLAS 

And we are informed, in the next place, that 
two shiploads of children sailed thence to the 
Holy Land.i This fact is merely mentioned. 
To our regret, we know not if they reached 
that destination. There seems to be an indi- 
cation, however, that they succeeded in arriv- 
ing at Ptolemais, then the only port in the 
hands of the Christians. If they did, the Cru- 
saders there must have thought that there had 
been at home a cessation of authority and of 
sense, to allow children to embark on so mad 
an enterprise, and to add their hungry mouths 
to the population already scant of food. There- 
fore if these children from Pisa reached the 
land for which they hoped, it was only to be 
pent up in a beleaguered city, and to suffer and 
die of want and of disease. 

Those who did not embark from Pisa left its 
walls and sought to journey still farther south- 
wards, resolved to follow the roads towards 
Palestine, as far as they would lead them. 
They broke up into bands and groups, and 
pursued different routes. Florence and Arezzo 
saw them in their streets, and wondered at 
their appearance. Perugia beheld them pass 
beneath her rocky height, or else welcomed 
them in her walls, while others took their way 

1 Chronicle of the Senones. 



TO ROME 107 

by Sienna. And as they went through this 
land of figs and of olives, the same story 
was repeated, of enticement and of seizure, to 
which they submitted with few regrets. 

At last a remnant of the original number 
who had left the place of gathering reached 
Rome, which was to be the limit of their 
journey. On some pleasant autumn day, 
they passed by Soracte, over the already ruin- 
strewed Campagna, and greeted the great city 
where their faith centred.^ 

Strange must have been the contrast pre- 
sented by Rome, to those who came directly 
from the wealthy marts of Genoa and Pisa. 
Distracted by feuds, the city was impoverished, 
and squalid misery crouched among the crum- 
bling remains of palaces and temples. This 
was the middle of that period of desolation 
which intervened between the ruin worked by 
the barbarians and the return of the present 
prosperity. Rome was, probably, at this time 
the most miserable city in Europe. 

The children were brought before the Pope. 
Innocent was never known to feel or to yield 
to emotions of pity or of tenderness. His na- 
ture knew but little of kindness, and his con- 
duct now showed his character. The children 

1 Silver Chronicle. 



I08 THE ARMY OF NICHOLAS 

told their story of wandering, of suffering, of 
wrong, and of frustrated hopes. They re- 
hearsed the account of their call by the Lord, 
and of the promises made to them, asking that 
he would assist them in prosecuting their jour- 
ney, and give them encouragement and advice. 
Very naturally he praised their ardor and per- 
severance in so good a cause, but commanded 
them to desist from the further attempt to 
reach Palestine, showing the vanity of the en- 
terprise. With a heartlessness born of his 
absorption in the cause of the Crusades, he 
said that nevertheless they could not be re- 
leased from their vows ; that they must, when 
they reached maturer years, redeem their 
promise to fight for the rescue of the Holy 
Sepulchre, whenever he should call upon them. 
He also sent word abroad to all who had re- 
turned, or who had found homes by the way, 
that they would be likewise held to their as- 
sumption of the Cross, and that exceptions 
would only be made in favor of the aged who 
had joined in the movement, and of the very 
young, who could not have understood the 
language of the promise when they made it. 
In this way were the children bound to a 
repetition of their adventures and hardships. 
One writer justifies this edict of Innocent, 



TO ROME 109 

comparing it to the fulfillment of Jephthah's 
vow.i 

Here the journey of the army which left 
Cologne under Nicholas ended at last, and 
we close its story. The few who had reached 
Rome prepared to return homewards, their 
hopes all given up, and their dreams of tri- 
umph and of glory forever abandoned. 

The few particulars which have been pre- 
served concerning their return will be related 
when we reach the termination of the march of 
the other army, as the features of the homeward 
journey of both bands were similar. 

We now turn again to those who had not left 
Cologne under the leadership of Nicholas. 

1 Herter, in his Life of Innocent III. 



CHAPTER V 

THE ARMY WITH THE UNKNOWN LEADER 

Over the army which departed from Cologne 
under other leadership than that of Nicholas 
there hangs, to our regret, great obscurity. 
Of its adventures but little detail has been pre- 
served. Who its commander was, we do not 
know. He who enjoyed the praises of thou- 
sands, and reveled in the adulation of a host, 
surely thought that the part he played was des- 
tined to be forever memorable, and that his 
name would be recalled when others of contem- 
porary fame were forgotten. As he contrasted 
his task, which was to lead the Lord's children 
to a bloodless victory, with the exploits of the 
soldiers and nobles who were fighting for rival 
claimants of a crown, he doubtless imagined 
that when the wars of Otho and of Frederick 
had been dropped by the Muse of History 
as trifling, she would linger long and fondly 
over the record of the rescue of the Holy City 
and the reinstatement of the Saviour's worship 



AJ^MY WITH THE UNKNOWN LEADER III 

among scenes consecrated by the story of his 
Incarnation. But his hopes were vain and his 
dreams of glory delusive. Less fortunate than 
his two fellow-leaders in the same Crusade, he 
has been forgotten, and there exists to-day, as 
far as can be ascertained, no clue to his name. 
It may yet be found in the unfrequented library 
of some old monastery, or in the dusty alcoves 
of some other repository of the learning and the 
piety of other days. 

Nor do we know why the children at Co- 
logne divided ; why they did not unite under 
Nicholas. We are only told their route in gen- 
eral terms, and a few particulars of the issue of 
their journey. 

They pursued a route which was longer; 
taking a circuitous course through Swabia, to 
the frontiers of what we now call Switzerland. 
In numbers they equaled those under Nicholas, 
and were equally heterogeneous. There were 
the many adults, male and female, old and 
young, wicked and pious. There was equal 
variety in the classes and ranks from whence 
recruits were won, and in all respects the as- 
semblage was as motley and as ungovernable. 
It is possible that this variety produced such 
disorganization that, whoever may have led 
them at first, erelong all semblance of author- 



112 THE ARMY WITH 

ity was lost, and the people only saw an undis- 
ciplined, and, as they thought, a headless throng. 
In this way we may account for the loss of the 
name of this rival of Nicholas. 

On some unrecorded day, — it may have been 
before or after the departure of that other mis- 
guided host whose journey we have described, 
— this band passed across the Rhine, and soon 
disappeared from the gaze of those who watched 
them from the river's bank. Why they chose 
this course we do not know ; it may have been 
to gain new adherents, and to carry the excite- 
ment to districts which had not been aroused. 
The same circiimstances attended their march 
as that of the others. They bore crosses and 
flags, and sang songs and hymns to beguile the 
tedious hours. As they passed along, the labor- 
ers quitted their toil, the young ran away to 
follow them, and they left in their wake a series 
of childless homes. In their presence, the con- 
testing bands of the Emperor and his insurgent 
subject ceased to fight. Towns and cities re- 
ceived them, in sympathy or in fear. 

And they met also with the same vicissitudes. 
The depraved plied arts of infamy, and the 
thieves stole their money and their food. The 
journey wearied them, and want joined fatigue 
to breed and foster disease. The lawless nobles 



THE UNKNOWN LEADER 1 13 

seized stragglers to carry them to their castles 
which, now in such peaceful ruins, crown the 
hills and crags of central Germany. From 
hardship to hardship they persisted, losing 
heart at each step, until, having passed the 
lands watered by the Main and the Neckar, 
they reached the Danube. From hence they 
marched on, until they stood by the Rhine again, 
probably near to where it issues from the Lake 
of Constance. Crossing this, they passed 
through Switzerland, and reached the banks of 
the Lake of Lucerne. As they intended to 
cross the Alps by the Pass of the St. Gotthard, 
then next in importance to that of the Mont 
Cenis, they had to sail the length of this beau- 
tiful sheet of water, for no path led around its 
perpendicular and uninhabitable shores. 

Very, very suggestive is it to imagine them 
passing up this lake, and especially up the 
weirdly magnificent Bay of Uri, whose cliffs 
were then as silent as they are now. More 
silent they could not have been, for all the 
increase of population of modern days, and the 
progress of science, have resulted in no more 
disturbance than the plash of the little steamer's 
wheel, which wakes the lesser echoes of these 
mighty mountains only for a moment. Upon 
those fathomless blue waters we see them 



114 ^-^^ ARMY WITH 

moving in many skiffs, their banners wav- 
ing in the air, and their hearts thrilled by the 
grandeur of the scenery. What a sight it must 
have been ! This lake had not yet the history 
which renders it so hallowed to-day. Griitli, 
where ninety-five years later the immortal three, 
Stauffacher, Fiirst, and Melchthal, were to meet, 
and, in that moonlight conspiracy, to form the 
little confederacy of which Switzerland was 
born, was then an unnamed meadow, and flow- 
ers grew undisturbed upon the rock where now 
there stands Tell's Chapel in beauty which de- 
fies forgetfulness. 

They reached the head of the lake, and, dis- 
embarking, prepared to tread the path which 
led over the Alps to the sunny lands of the 
South. Thirty miles of weary climbing were 
to be achieved before the top was reached. 
There was no road. A wretched path wound 
from side to side of deep gorges and from peril 
to peril, often obliterated or swept away by 
the snows and torrents. Frequently the frail 
bridges, made in the spring, had been also 
washed away, and the children must wade 
through the freezing waters, which carried off, 
in their violence, more than one who could not 
resist the rushing, chilling stream. Those who 
have followed this route, even upon the present 



THE UNKNOWN LEADER 1 15 

fine causeway, well remember the gloom of its 
defiles, the giddiness of its precipices, the awe- 
inspiring effect of the lofty mountains above, 
and the ceaseless roar of the cataracts below. 
Let such imagine the emotions of the little 
ones who trod this path seven hundred years 
ago ! But of all places one appalls the traveler 
to-day more than any other. Between two per- 
pendicular walls of rock, rushes, in concentrated 
force, the foaming Reuss. Within this chasm 
there springs from side to side the Devil's 
Bridge. As we now cross the strong and no- 
ble arch which carries the road over the yawn- 
ing abyss, we cannot fail to shudder at the pre- 
cariousness of the ancient route, which was only 
superseded within the present century. The 
path then led for quite a distance along an un- 
even shelf that projected about a yard from the 
face of the perpendicular cliff, until directly in 
front of a cataract. From this ledge the bridge, 
hardly four feet wide, sprang to the opposite 
side, where the path was resumed, almost as 
dizzy as before. In fact so difficult was it to 
understand how an arch had been built here, 
that the people attributed its origin to Satan. 
They said that, after many unsuccessful at- 
tempts had been made to construct a bridge 
and prevent the frequent loss of life, a man un- 



1 1 6 THE ARMY WITH 

dertook the task, who came to the conclusion 
that no mortal could build one in that place. 
Then there appeared to him that person so ac- 
tive in records of the Middle Ages, the Devil. 
He said that he would complete the contract, 
if he were to have, as his pay, the soul of the 
first one that passed over the work. The bar- 
gain was gladly closed, and the next morning 
revealed a fine stone arch, spanning the con- 
quered chasm. The happy man kept his agree- 
ment, but, with a pious regard for human wel- 
fare, sent over it first — his dog. The enraged 
architect seized a rock and threw it to ruin his 
work, but Providence diverted it, so that it fell, 
where it still lies, in the bed of the stream be- 
low. 

Through scenes so wild did our children 
pass, and over other bridges almost as preca- 
rious. It needs not the record of the chroni- 
cler to tell us that many met death in these 
gloomy scenes of Uri. They died from hunger 
and fatigue, from disease and exposure. Ava- 
lanches and streams swept them away as they 
unwarily crossed their courses. Others, when 
the valleys were shrouded in mist, strayed from 
the path and wandered off into lateral gorges, 
where they lay down exhausted, on moors or 
on ravines, to sleep away their lives. The Al- 



THE UNKNOWN LEADER 11/ 

pine rose was beautiful, but it could give no 
sympathy. The springs sang cheerily, but 
they sounded as mockery. Worn out, bodily 
and mentally, hundreds, who in wanderings 
of mind saw vividly their once unvalued but 
now beloved homes, with children's grief and 
children's timidity, sobbed till they ceased to 
breathe. Over their remains no requiem was 
sung, except the voice of torrents ; no weeping 
was heard but the sighing of the wind through 
the firs, which seemed responsive to their sighs ; 
no monument was reared, except the wild flow- 
ers which, when spring came again, were nur- 
tured by their dust ; while the lofty mountain 
peaks, which kissed the sky and caught the 
clouds, pointed upwards to their rest. We often 
hear or read of the sadness and interest of the 
graves of ocean, but not less secret or touch- 
ing are the sepulchres on trackless mountain 
heights. 

On the top of the pass there stood, as stands 
to-day, a monastery like that on Mont Cenis, 
where the traveler or pilgrim could rest or 
take refuge. We can imagine the astonish- 
ment of the good monks when they saw a vast 
procession of youths, ragged and weary, issu- 
ing from the gorges and commencing to file 
across the plain on which the Hospice stood. 



Il8 THE ARMY WITH 

They rubbed their eyes, but did not rub away 
the vision, for it was real, and they soon learnt, 
to their additional surprise, that this was the 
Lord's army on the way to Jerusalem. The 
band tarried awhile, ate what food was pro- 
vided ; it may be they slept there, and then 
proceeded to descend the pass. A day or two 
brought them to the lovely plains of Lom- 
bardy, whose cultivation and richness revived 
their spirits. But Italy was to be to them, as 
to those led by Nicholas, no friendly land. 
During his long wars, Barbarossa had repeat- 
edly ravaged this region, and he had excelled 
himself in the destruction of beautiful and an- 
cient Milan. These injuries were still fresh in 
the hearts of the people, and we are expressly 
informed that they made these children of the 
hated race feel that they had been unfortunate 
in their choice of a route. Full of enmity, 
they made the young Crusaders pay for the 
excesses of their countrymen, so that their 
journey was stained with tears and blood. 
Many were murdered ; others were stolen to 
be carried away to misery, dishonor, and slav- 
ery. 

But they persevered, expecting, as the other 
band, to find a pathway through the sea, when 
they had reached the end of their journey by 



THE UNKNOWN LEADER TI9 

land. It was a long march along that road 
that lay to the east of the Apennines. When 
they came to Ravenna, or some other city, they 
were disappointed to find in each case that it 
was not the place where the waters were to be 
divided for them. At times, as in Umbria and 
by Ancona, they had mountains to pass over, 
and as here, or when near the shore, they saw 
the wide Adriatic, how welcome were the cool 
breezes, how earnestly did they long to cross 
its waters ! How interminable must that jour- 
ney have seemed ! Of course they knew no- 
thing of geography, and as the names of places 
were told them by the people whom they saw, 
they conveyed no idea whether the goal they 
sought was far or near. They only knew that, 
if they traveled long enough, they would reach 
the extreme point of Italy, which was nearest to 
the Holy Land, and there, surely, God would 
interfere to promote their farther progress. In 
this hope they toiled on, by village and town, 
by frequent shrine and wayside cross ; now in 
a cool valley, soon afterwards upon some fetid 
marsh ; to-day under the shadow of the dark 
mountains, to-morrow on some waving cam- 
pagna. Was there to be no respite to all this t 
Are we to see our comrades fall away and die, 
until none remain 1 Questions such as these 



120 THE ARMY WITH 

were daily asked. At length they reached 
Apulia. Here new trials awaited them. They 
came now to traverse a stricken land, for it 
writhed under the tortures of .famine caused by 
the drought of which we have spoken before. 
They had succeeded, by begging and gathering 
fruits along the way, in gaining a scanty sup- 
ply of food, but now they were to be dependent 
upon the alms of a starving people. All the 
excesses of dearth were visible, and, instead of 
the usually luxurious crops of Italy's genial 
soil and climate, the Crusaders beheld fruit- 
less trees, and parched fields whereon waved 
stunted stalks that bore no grain. So great 
was the want, so memorable the suffering, that 
their report spread to distant Cremona, and its 
bishop, Sicardi, tells us, in strongest language, 
of the terrors of the season, adding that 
mothers in their hunger ate their children. It 
needs no long statement of chroniclers to 
portray the scenes witnessed as a band of un- 
provided children, emaciated and fatigued with 
marching, journeyed through this famishing 
region. 

Causes above alluded to had tended to the 
diminution of their numbers, all the way from 
the Rhine to this point, and there now re- 
mained but a small fraction of the numerous 



THE UNKNOWN LEADER 121 

company, who had entered upon their expedi- 
tion so confident of easy march to sure success. 
But this remainder was again lessened by the 
hardships of Apulia, and each day saw many 
dying, returning, or straggling away, to be lost 
in a vain search for food. 

A considerable number at length reached 
Brundusium, almost at the extremity of the 
Italian peninsula. This was in ancient days an 
important place, and at this time was the prin- 
cipal port on that coast, having commerce with 
Eastern lands, to which its situation adapted it. 

Here, then, we find the children at last, after 
their long march over a route where all forms 
of difficulty had been encountered. 

They who reached this point, although they 
had shown such endurance that they had borne 
up under every kind of temptation and trial, 
were now ready to confess that, if there was 
provided no sign of any intervention of God in 
their behalf, they would desist from farther at- 
tempts. Would that we knew how many there 
were who entered the quaint and dirty streets 
of Brindisi, as it is now called, on that August 
or September day ! We know their state. 
We know that their garments, so tattered, 
bore little evidence of having once been a uni- 
form, and that they had not such bright 



122 THE ARMY WITH 

ensigns nor so many crosses as they had taken 
from Cologne. But as to number we have no 
indication to guide us. All that can be said is 
that two or three thousand are as many as 
could be expected to remain, after such an in- 
cessant decimation. 

Concerning their reception in Brindisi, we 
have some information. We learn that they 
were treated with extreme cruelty, and that 
they found its people even baser than those 
who lived to the northward. The girls were 
maltreated, seized, and decoyed away, and all 
the privileges of their character of , pilgrims 
were despised. As the girls were thus treated, 
we can justly infer that the boys did not es- 
cape, but that they found it a city of sorrow. 
What its state must have been can easily be 
conceived, when we think upon the condition 
of Italy. In a few cities were centred all the 
light and all the civilization of the times, and 
in places so remote as Brindisi were to be 
found without alleviation the misery, the igno- 
rance, and the irreligion of the dark ages. 
They who to-day visit it and find it worse than 
cities such as Capua or Terni, or those of lower 
Italy in general, can form some idea of what 
it must have been in the thirteenth century. 

But the bishop of this evil city, whose name 



THE UNKNOWN LEADER 1 23 

has been forgotten, seems to have been a kind- 
hearted man. He is said to have understood 
the fraud of which the children were victims, 
and to have labored to undeceive them. He 
told them of the futility of their enterprise and 
of the sin of their disobedience, and then en- 
treated them to return, instead of encounter- 
ing the dangers that were still to be surmounted 
ere the Holy Land would be reached. 

Most of them listened to advice so obviously 
wise, enforced by an experience so memorable 
as that of their journey. But many neverthe- 
less wished to persevere, and these embarked 
in several ships, whose owners offered to con- 
vey them to the goal of their desires. They 
were deaf to all remonstrances, and departed 
for the shores of the land in which they longed 
to rest. 

They were never heard of again. They 
sailed away from the high headlands of Cavallo, 
watched with strange interest by the people of 
Brindisi. And they sailed away into oblivion 
and silence, for where they died — whether in 
the hour of shipwreck on some lone rock in the 
sea, or in slavery in heathen lands, or yet in 
battle with the Saracen — shall not be known 
to mortals, until the day when " the earth and 
the sea shall give up their dead." 



CHAPTER VI 

THE RETURN OF THE 'GERMAN CHILDREN 

There are various hints and statements 
scattered among the chronicles, concerning the 
homeward wanderings of the German children 
which may be briefly summed up. The reader 
may consider the relation of the experience of 
these little Crusaders monotonous, as a con- 
stant repetition of hardships and trials. It is 
natural to think how much greater would have 
been the interest of the narrative, if we knew 
more of the reception they met in the cities 
of Italy or Germany, if we had details of their 
adventures, and could associate definite spots 
with certain incidents of their pilgrimage. 
Episodes of romance must have been frequent, 
for we cannot imagine otherwise, when we 
think of hosts of children marching from place 
to place in an age so strange, passing by walls 
and towers which we now regard with venera- 
tion, and which we visit to recall the departed 
past. 



/ RETURN OF THE GERMAN CHILDREN 1 25 

There must have been also many events of 
interest which attended the return of these 
youths, when they sought, in tears and regret, 
their homes again. As we look upon the route 
from Genoa or Rome, from Brindisi or Lom- 
bardy, we can find food for many fancies in 
picturing their northward journey. But only 
a few particulars are preserved, and they are 
told us in general terms. 

It has been seen how the childrenr of both 
of the armies whose march we have traced 
dropped away from day to day, and how in this 
way the columns gradually diminished, until but 
a fraction of the original numbers reached the 
termination of the pilgrimage. 

As was to be expected, when liberated from 
all restraint, they fell a prey to vice in the vari- 
ous cities of Italy, while in their condition of ex- 
haustion and of want they were ready to listen 
to any temptations. The result was that every 
city and town through which they passed re- 
tained numbers of them, especially of the girls. 
Years afterwards travelers found them still 
there, sunken in vice and lost to purity. It is 
stated that for a long time they formed a large 
element in the depraved classes of the land. 
As the quotation at the beginning of this book 
states, the girls were publicly sold as slaves in 



126 THE RETURN OF 

Brundusium. It is probable that this occurred 
in other places, for slavery was still common in 
Europe. 

Many, however, remained willingly and gladly 
to lead lives of industry in a land which was so 
enticing to those born in a region w^here nei- 
ther nature nor art had done much for luxury 
and comfort. As it happened in Genoa, it was 
the case that in other cities numbers remained 
to mingle their blood with that of the dark Ital- 
ians, and, in the pursuit of ease and wealth, to 
forget their dreams of fame and the associa- 
tions of their childhood. 

Yet the most of them persisted in returning. 
There were to be seen frequent groups from both 
bands passing through the towns along the way. 
As they journeyed, they constantly came upon 
traces of their predecessors, and slept night after 
night by the scenes of former encampments 
and by nameless graves. The people who had 
seen them hurrying southwards with some 
order and discipline, now saw them returning 
in disorderly companies, which were an easier 
prey than ever to the lawless. The land had 
been inhospitable before, but the few who may 
have been kind to them then had no care for 
them when foiled and disappointed. 

And when they had crossed the Alps, and 



THE GERMAN CHILDREN 



12'J 



stood on German soil, where they had hoped 
for kindly treatment, they learned again that it 
was one thing to belong to a large and enthu- 
siastic army which was seeking to rescue the 
Sepulchre, and another to be a defeated and 
worn-out penitent coming home. As one sym- 
pathizingly says, who may have seen some of 
them : *' They who used to pass through coun- 
tries in parties and troops, and never without 
the song of encouragement, now returned 
singly and in silence, barefooted and famished. 
They were a scoffing to all men." ^ He also 
adds that not only did the misery of their ap- 
pearance contribute to render them subjects of 
scorn, and liable to reproach and cruelty, but 
their conduct was such, their morals so ruined 
by the experiences of the past, that they were 
repelled and despised by the same persons who 
once had regarded them as pious deliverers of 
the Holy Land. We can well believe that there 
were many of the groups who so conducted 
themselves that others succeeding them fared 
the worse. But even where there was no mo- 
tive for retaliation, the treatment the children 
received from their countrymen was most cruel. 
Loading them with reproaches and taunts, they 
now turned away from their doors those to 

1 Silver Chronicle. 



128 THE RETURN OF 

whom not long before they had not dared or 
wished to refuse food and shelter. 

Consequently, their pathway through Ger- 
many to their homes was as trying as it had 
been in Italy, and they sickened and died, from 
exhaustion and starvation, in a land to which 
they had looked forward with fondness, and 
hope of reaching which had nerved them to 
cross again the terrible Alps. And when they 
had breathed out their weary lives, the barba- 
rous people would not bury their corpses, but in 
heartless inhumanity let them rot by the way- 
side.^ 

Day by day, there came straggling into 
Cologne, or the other cities from whence they 
had departed, groups of these victims of a sad 
delusion, their heads drooping in shame, their 
eyes red with tears, their clothing in rags. They 
bore not home their insignia, their banners, and 
their crosses. They had cast them away when 
they had learned the folly of their proud boasts, 
and the vanity of this display. They sought 
again the lowly hut and the baronial castle, 
where at last they rested, home again ! Alas ! 
how they had paid for their willfulness ! They 
were asked where they had been, and we are 
told that they replied, " they did not know ! " 

1 Gesta Trevirorum. 



THE GERMAN CHILDREN 1 29 

They only knew of days of varied vicissitude. 
They knew not, in their ignorance, what had 
been their route, what lands they had traversed, 
or what cities they had seen. They had jour- 
neyed until they could journey no longer, and 
then they had turned homewards. What a con- 
fused and wild story did they tell, of strange 
languages and costumes, of curious edifices and 
wonderful fruits ! How many days elapsed be- 
fore they had answered all the questions which 
their friends, in mingled wonder and pity, asked 
of those who had survived ! And those who had 
not survived ! How eagerly were they inquired 
after ! How anxiously did parents greet each 
band to ascertain whether their own dear ones 
had yet come ! How many hearts were kept in 
suspense for days and weeks, while the com- 
panies continued to arrive, until they found the 
children they cared for, or else learned their fate, 
that they had died in the forest or on the moun- 
tain, on the plain or in the valley, or had re- 
mained in some distant Italian city, to return 
no more ! There was many a Rachel by the 
Rhine and the Moselle, by the Meuse and the 
Lippe, who wept long years for children dead 
or forever separated from them. 

The winter had passed, and the following 
spring had come and gone, before the last com- 



130 RETURN OF THE GERMAN CHILDREN 

pany came straggling back. Soon the excite- 
ment died away, and, in the confusion and rav- 
ages of war, the sorrows and adventures of the 
little Crusaders were forgotten by the same 
people who had rushed to see them depart, and 
who had wondered at the issue of their enter- 
prise. 

Yet for many years were they remembered 
by those who had been partakers in the move- 
ment, or by those who had lost a beloved one 
in its whirl. Long afterwards did peasant, no- 
ble, shepherd, and merchant gather with ever 
new interest to hear the old story, and many 
a child became a father, to tell to little ones 
around him the tear-awakening tale of what he 
had seen and suffered, when in childhood he 
set out in credulous enthusiasm " to seek the 
Cross beyond the sea." 

Thus have we, imperfectly enough, attempted 
to tell the story of the Crusade of the German 
children, which arose from the preaching of 
Nicholas at the shrine of the Kings. 

Tersely does an old epigram sum up the 
whole matter : — 

" Ad mare stultorum 
Tendebat iter puerorum." 

" To the sea of fools 
Led the path of the children.^^ 



CHAPTER VII 

THE JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN 



The Gathering at Vefidbme 

We left Stephen preaching at St. Denys, 
and his youthful lieutenants gathering children 
from various parts of France. This continued 
long after the German army had started, and 
the latter was well on its way to Italy before 
the French little ones were ready to begin 
their journey. The probable reason for this 
was that the movement was spread over a 
greater extent of country, and therefore the 
collecting of an army required a longer time. 

Stephen indicated Vendome as the place of 
assembling and of united departure for Pales- 
tine.i This city had the advantages of being 
central and near to his home. It was a town 
of importance, and from it there diverged roads 
in all directions. 

During the latter part of June the various 

* All the chronicles agree in this. 



132 JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN 

bands continued to arrive in this city, all led 
by a common enthusiasm, and full of common 
hopes. Very stirring must have been the 
streets as daily some new company came, with 
its young prophet, and loud were the noises 
of their greetings. We can imagine how it 
must have seemed to look across the plains 
and see some group corning over the distant 
hills, or defiling across the country, their flags 
and oriflammes waving high in air and crosses 
rising higher yet. As they approach, their 
songs are heard, first faint in the distance and 
then clearer and louder until the words are 
distinct, and the dialect discloses the region 
whence they come. 

For they arrived from each province, with 
their different languages and costumes and 
peculiarities ; some speaking the soft accents 
of the South, others the harsher dialects of 
Brittany or Normandy ; some the langue d'Oc, 
others the langue d'Oil. Very great were the 
consequent confusion and the variety in the 
composition of the assembling army, which was 
to march to bloodless glory under Stephen. 
The largest band which came to the gathering 
was that from Paris. Of this company a chron- 
icler says that there were collected in that city 
"fifteen thousand, of whom none were more 



THE GATHERING AT VENDOME 1 33 

than twelve years of age," ^ a statement which 
we may take with caution ; but at the same 
time it shows, as do many others similar, relat- 
ing to the event, how very young the children 
really were and how great their numbers. 
The cause of so many being recruited in Paris 
was its proximity to St. Denys, as well as its 
being the capital and principal city of the 
realm. The march of this body to Vend6me 
must have been peculiarly imposing, and their 
arrival the great excitement of exciting days. 
The crowds gathering here were therefore still 
more motley than those at Cologne, as regards 
diversity of cusjtoms and of dialects. There 
were the same kinds of hangers-on mingled 
with the boys. The number of depraved men 
and women was as great, and they came from 
every quarter of France to profit by so unique an 
opportunity. There were also many girls, some 
of whom, afraid of detection, assumed male 
attire. But although there was a large propor- 
tion of these men and women and girls attracted 
by motives of a base or of a pious nature, it is 
nevertheless true that their number was rela- 
tively smaller than it was in the German armies ; 
and therefore this movement is more interest- 
ing, from being more exclusively one of boys. 

1 Roger de Wendover. 



134 JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN 

Yet, however varied their languages and dif- 
ferent their dresses and customs, they all were 
one in their feelings, and understood one another 
in the sympathy of a common, beloved cause. 
Repeating the promises of their leaders, for it 
was with them as with the Germans in this re- 
spect, they all said that they were not to wait, 
as their predecessors in the holy war had done, 
for vessels to carry them to Palestine, and in 
them to find, as had so many brave men, a 
grave in the wide Mediterranean. " Between 
waters, which are to be to us as a wall on the 
right hand and on the left, are we to cross the 
untrodden bed of the sea, and with dry feet 
will we stand on the distant beach by the walls 
of Acre or of Tripoli. We bear no weapons 
and we wear no armor ! The pathway of other 
Crusaders may be marked by the stain of blood 
and the glitter of steel, and martial music may 
have timed their many steps, but our pilgrim's 
robes are our armor, our crosses are our swords, 
and our hymns shall time our march ! " 

We are not told whether they assumed any 
general uniform, but the analogy of all other 
Crusades and scattered hints would seem to 
indicate that all who could procure it wore a 
prescribed dress. They all wore the Cross at 
least. This was made of woolen cloth, and sewed 



THE GATHERING AT VENDOME 135 

on the right shoulder of the coat. To place 
it there was a duty reserved to the prophets 
alone, as it was the formal act of enlistment. 
The little fellows were as proud of them as the 
young officer of his epaulettes, and were beside 
themselves with joy at being thus enrolled 
among the Crusaders, and in a company which 
contained so many famous names, the recollec- 
tion of whose deeds fired every heart with a 
desire to equal their achievements. 

As their numbers were too great to be con- 
tained within the city, they encamped without its 
walls, each band by itself and keeping its iden- 
tity until merged -into the common mass at de- 
parture. Day by day they waited, as recruits con- 
tinued to arrive. The monks and priests who 
had joined them, either in piety to guide them 
or as pilgrims themselves, aided the young 
leaders in maintaining the spirit of enthusiasm 
and in promoting unity and peace. The dis- 
couraged were cheered, the homesick consoled, 
and the depraved, as far as possible, expelled. 

At last the latest band had come, and Ste- 
phen announced that they were ready to start. 
The number then assembled around Vendome 
was about thirty thousand,^ as all the estimates 

1 Albericus ; Vincent de Beauvais ; Chronicle of Laon ; 
Jean d'Ypres. 



136 JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN 

warrant us in concluding. What an uprising 
of homes this was ! How sad a scene to the 
thoughtful, who foresaw the certain fate of that 
vast multitude ! It was to melt away that 
same autumn as the snows of winter, and 
when a year had rolled around and brought an- 
other summer, but few of them were to be at 
home again. Many would fill graves among 
strangers or in the deep sea ! For the summer 
was well advanced, and it was at least the end 
of July when in the camps was heard the bustle 
of departure. We will now follow these thirty 
thousand children seeking, in^the heat of Au- 
gust, the port of Marseilles, where they were to 
find that wonderful pathway through the sea. 

II 

The yourney to Marseilles 

The fields around Vendome had never seen 
before, and never shall see again, a sight like 
that which on that day was witnessed, when 
the army of children formed its ranks, to com- 
mence its chimerical pilgrimage. Pleading rela- 
tives and weeping friends were mingled with 
admirers, and entreaties to repent and remain 
were met and counteracted by applause and 
encouragement. The latter form of advice 



THE JOURNEY TO MARSEILLES 1 37 

accorded with their wishes, and the deluded 
youths answered the arguments of dissuasion 
with the wild and baseless assertions which 
they had heard from those who urged them on- 
ward. It was too late to reason now. To with- 
draw was impossible, if desired. They could 
not encounter the ridicule of abandoning their 
comrades in this the hour of hope. After reli- 
gious exercises, wherein the blessing of God was 
invoked, the oriflammes and crosses were raised 
in gladness, and with visions of pleasant wander- 
ings to triumphant rest, these thousands of chil- 
dren commenced their journey. 

Their route was to lie by Blois, where the 
ancient road crossed the Loire in a southeast- 
erly direction to the Rh6ne, and thence south- 
wards to Marseilles. Far different was this 
journey from that of the Germans, for there 
were no Alpine heights or Alpine torrents, and 
the country was not so little civilized and unpeo- 
pled as that which intervened between Cologne 
and Italy. The result of this difference was that 
the hardships of the band whom we are now to 
follow were very much less than those which 
we have described. 

Childlike was their ardor as they began to 
tread the way to Palestine. They looked on 
the red crosses on their shoulders in order to 



138 JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN 

acquire that resolution in the holy cause which 
would enable them to exclude regrets for home 
and fear of fatigue. Determined to act as faith- 
ful soldiers in the army of God, they set their 
feet down at each step with manly firmness. 
There was a much better spirit among those 
composing this army than among those who de- 
parted from Cologne, owing to the presence of 
fewer depraved adults and youths. There were 
also very many ecclesiastics, and their presence 
was some restraint upon the tendencies to vice 
and dissension, while they also could encourage 
and advise the desponding. 

They have departed from Vendome, and as 
evening closes around the landscape, the peo- 
ple of that old city have seen disappear the last 
straggler of that army of children led by a child. 
Let us now turn to this leader, of whom little 
has been heard since he preached at St. Denys. 
Fortunately, the chroniclers have preserved to 
us some particulars concerning the deportment 
of this commander of Liliputian Crusaders. 

As would be expected, the applause and 
homage which Stephen received had turned 
his head, as has so often been the case with 
older persons. Elevated in a few weeks from 
being an obscure shepherd boy in Cloyes, for 
whom none cared, and accustomed to regard 



THE JOURNEY TO MARSEILLES 1 39 

the nobles who despised his condition as un- 
attainably above him, to a station where he 
received the admiration of thousands, was re- 
garded as a saint, and received adulatory obe- 
dience, he would have been more than human 
if he had not learned to be vain, to indulge in 
display, and to exact extreme reverence. Ac- 
cordingly we find that, as he led his army from 
Vendome, he assumed a pretense of pomp, and 
presented a marked contrast with the appear- 
ance of those whom he commanded. He could 
not walk. That was too humble for such a 
leader. The Lord's own general and prophet 
must assume the style which became his rank. 
He therefore rode in a chariot, as splendid as 
could be procured, which was covered with rare 
carpets of brilliant colors. Over his head, to pro- 
tect him from the heat of the sun, was a canopy, 
whence there hung in folds rich draperies of 
every hue. Around this chariot, to guard him 
and carry out his commands, as well as to add 
to the impressiveness of his station, there rode 
a band of chosen youths of noble birth, on 
chargers, dressed in splendid accoutrements, 
and armed with lances and spears.^ They vied 
with each other in zeal in his behalf, and 
gladly obeyed him whom once they would 
have spurned. 

^ 1 Roger de "V^endover, inter al. 



140 JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN 

All this assumption of display does not seem 
to have shaken the confidence of his followers. 
It appears, on the contrary, to have increased 
it, upon principles which we can easily under- 
stand. Too young to see the inconsistency of 
his conduct, they listened to his words as those 
of God, and regarded his desires as law. In 
order to maintain the spirit of the host, which 
fatigue would tend to lessen, he wisely ad- 
dressed them often. When they departed in the 
morning from their resting-place, or when they 
halted at noon or encamped at evening, and 
also during the march, he spoke encouraging 
words from his chariot. It is said that on such 
occasions they thronged around him so tumultu- 
ously that it frequently required the strenuous 
efforts of his guards to protect him from the 
consequences of their eager homage, and that 
as they thus pushed and struggled in endeavors 
to approach the prophet boy accidents occurred, 
many of those who were small and weak being 
crushed to death. 

But such incidents made merely transient 
impressions on this thoughtless crowd. They 
forgot them all when some event awakened 
anew their enthusiasm. To such an extent 
was their regard for Stephen carried, that it 
amounted to investing him with all the attri- 



THE JOURNEY TO MARSEILLES I4I 

butes of sanctity. They vied in efforts to pro- 
cure from his person or his chariot some little 
fragment, which was kept as a relic and valued 
as a charm. They who had succeeded in secur- 
ing a thread of his raiment, or a piece of the 
trappings of the car, or even of the accoutre- 
ments of the horses, showed them with exulta- 
tion to the others ; while they who had a single 
hair of his head were regarded as possessors of 
a priceless treasure. 

As regards the moral character of Stephen, 
one chronicler says : "He was a child in years 
but accomplished in vice." ^ But he wrote 
long after the event, and in his whole narrative 
is under the conviction that Stephen had ori- 
ginated and carried out the deception, and 
visits on this child's head all the disasters and 
sorrows which resulted. Of course, if he had 
been a willful deceiver, and had acted a con- 
scious fraud so cruelly and with so many lies, 
he would have been remarkably mature in 
depravity as well as in intellect. But if, as we 
have seen, it was the case that he was himself 
the subject of deception by a priest, then the 
above accusation, founded on the supposition 
of his originating the movement and fabricat- 
ing the story of his call, falls to the ground. 
1 Roger de Wendover. 



142 JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN 

And while, nevertheless, there may have been 
reasons for the assertion, still, other considera- 
tions render it difficult to believe that he was 
notoriously vicious. We can hardly think that 
the priest who sought him out would have 
chosen him as the instrument of arousing the 
country, if he had won such a reputation ; the 
very object in view would have been frustrated 
at once, if those who knew him could tell his 
dupes that such was his character. It is natu- 
ral to suppose that he had something winning 
about him to gain so many adherents of all 
ages and classes, and that he was not known 
to be immoral, or else he would scarcely have 
received veneration as a saint. The very suc- 
cess of his preaching therefore leads us to be- 
lieve that he was not known to be particularly 
bad. On the other hand, if we believe that he 
was duped and thought himself intrusted by 
Christ with the duty of proclaiming and con- 
ducting the Crusade, we would be led to sup- 
pose that he was piously disposed and felt what 
he uttered when he depicted the misery of the 
Christians in the Holy Land, and the ignomin- 
ious state of the Sepulchre of the Saviour. 
Nothing that we know concerning his conduct 
is inconsistent with childish piety. The state 
which he assumed does not contradict such 



THE JOURNEY TO MARSEILLES I43 

a supposition, for it would have required the 
years and spirit of a Peter or of a Bernard to 
have been unaffected by flattery and luxury, 
after having been accustomed to the lot of the 
poor, and to the scorn and abuse which that 
class received from the nobles. 

We see in him, then, a child of twelve years 
of age, who was carried away with the belief 
that he was God's chosen leader to rescue 
Palestine, and whose unreasoning mind was 
inflated by constant respect and adulation- of 
a host. He was evidently precocious and pos- 
sessed of no slight abilities, however much of 
the direction and control of the vast army 
which he led may be attributed to ' older per- 
sons with whom he consulted. For although 
no reference is made to such counselors, it is 
wild to suppose that there were none, but that 
he actually chose the route, and regulated the 
march. 

So they trudge wearily along, this host of 
deluded children, led by their child prophet, 
reclining at ease in his luxurious chariot. 
Their little limbs were not used to more than 
short journeys to and from the pastures where 
they had fed their flocks, and they soon learned 
that, although glory and honor were at the end 
of the pilgrimage, fatigue and suffering inter- 



144 JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN 

vened. The girls, and the children of gentle 
birth, were especially unfitted to endure such 
a march ; and when the first day ended, there 
were many blistered feet and tearful eyes. 

As has been said, their pathway was marked 
by much fewer hardships than those of the 
German armies, inasmuch as the country was 
more peopled, as well as because the distance 
to be traversed was much shorter. They did 
not have to sleep on rocky heights or on freez- 
ing moors ; they always found fields to rest 
in ; and as they passed through no strange 
land, they received the sympathy of country- 
men instead of the hostility of aliens. Conse- 
quently, as we shall see, their numbers were 
comparatively little affected by desertion and 
death. But yet it was not a path of roses, their 
journey was not unalloyed with trials. 

Of course a frequent source of trouble was 
scarcity of food. There was no regular provi- 
sion for its supply, and soon they were reduced 
to what they could beg. We are told that this 
was readily given, and even that money was 
furnished in many cases by the people who 
sympathized with them. But there were some 
districts which were uninhabited, and here 
they suffered from hunger and disease. 

A great deal of misery was caused by the 



THE JOURNEY TO MARSEILLES 1 45 

great heat of this summer, which, as we have 
seen, was of unusual intensity. ^ This caused 
the great drought of which we spoke when fol- 
lowing the fortunes of the other armies, and 
here, as there, it was said to be the evident 
intervention of God to dry up the sea. 

It was terrible to walk from day to day under 
a broiling sun, through fields that were parched 
and burnt, where the brooks were dry, and the 
moss on the stones was dead, where morning 
brought no freshness, and evening no dew. 
This prostrated numbers of the children, and 
their corpses lay scattered along the road for 
many a mile. 

These hardships and the influence of the un- 
worthy characters soon resulted in more or less 
complete loss of discipline and of authority. 
Want produced dissensions and developed self- 
ishness, each one being on the alert to outwit 
the others in the search for food and in en- 
deavors to keep it concealed. They then strag- 
gled on, becoming more and more a loose, con- 
gregated horde, until at last Stephen's authority 
was entirely disregarded, and it was a race for 
the sea. Their spirits had been for a while kept 
up by the impulse of the original excitement ; 
then they had sung their songs and told tales 

1 Lambert of Liege. 



146 JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN 

of adventure, and the leaders had artfully tried 
to make them forget fatigue in anticipation of 
the coming glory. For they had their songs 
as had the children of Germany, but they are 
all lost to us. With these they passed away 
many a monotonous hour, proclaiming their 
determination to rescue and restore to its honor 
the Sepulchre of Christ. Constantly renewed 
promises and imaginary descriptions of rest to 
be won were also effective in counteracting the 
desire to return, which their trials engendered, 
and kept together those who still persevered. 
Stephen was always wont to reply, and his lieu- 
tenants also, in answer to inquiries as to when 
the weary march would be over, that the end 
was near at hand, and that a few more days or 
hours would bring them to the sea. Their 
ignorance of geography rendered them unable 
to detect the falsehoods thus told them, and 
they were therefore repeatedly led to hope for 
the morrow, only to be grievously disappointed 
when that morrow came. Their innocence and 
confiding credulity are vividly represented by 
the statement of an historian,^ who says that, 
as they thought of nothing but Jerusalem, and 
day by day were told that their toils would soon 
be over, when they came in sight of a castle or 

1 Choiseul d'Aillecourt. 



THE JOURNEY TO MARSEILLES 147 

a walled town, some of them would ask, for- 
getful of the sea which intervened, **Is that 
Jerusalem ? " Poor little pilgrims ! How often 
have children of a larger growth, as they 
labored and toiled, fancied that they beheld in 
some prospect before them the Jerusalem they 
sought ! And it reminds us also that possibly 
there was often heard among them that appeal 
which heralds in other crusading armies were 
wont to make to the weak-hearted and weary, 
who were aroused to new efforts when they 
heard it : ** This is not Jerusalem ! " 

They passed through Central France, cross- 
ing the Rhone, as was most usual, at Lyons, 
and then entered the kingdom of Burgundy or 
Arelate. The crusading spirit was peculiarly 
strong here, and the children received sympathy 
and aid. But nevertheless it was a fatigu- 
ing march until they reached Provence, which 
seemed as a new world to them. This was 
the garden of all Europe. Among fields of un- 
equaled luxuriance there stood moss -covered 
ruins of ancient days, which, by their frequency 
and elegance, showed how the Romans had 
prized the region, and loved to embellish it. 

Past broken aqueducts and roofless temples, 
they wandered in a beautiful country, and began 
to forget the trials of a route through uninhab- 



148 JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN 

ited districts and uncultivated wilds. Their 
spirits revived, and their hopes again were 
raised. Finally they reached the last range 
of hills they had to climb, when there burst 
upon them a view which awakened in them 
emotions of astonishment and delight. Before 
them was the cool, blue sea. The crisp waves 
broke on its bosom, and clouds chased each 
other across its vast horizon, while beautiful 
islands dotted its surface here and there along 
the coast. Below them upon the shore was 
Marseilles, which, though not forming so en- 
chanting a vision as Genoa, yet astonished 
these young pilgrims, who had never seen such 
a sight before. They hurried down to its walls. 
Songs of loud accord announced their coming 
to the people of the city, and they went out to 
meet this most curious of all the many curious 
armies that had come thither in order to em- 
bark on the historic Mediterranean. 

Ill 

Marseilles and the Good Mercka?ifs 

After a long period of obscurity, Marseilles 
had at this time become again, as it had been 
centuries before, one of the chief cities on the 
shore of the Mediterranean. Since the days 



MARSEILLES AND THE MERCHANTS 1 49 

when it was able to resist so long the arms of 
Caesar, in upholding the interests of Pompey, 
there had intervened an era of poverty and of 
feebleness. It had been a part of the king- 
dom of Provence until A. d. 930, when the lat- 
ter became united to Burgundy Trans-jurane. 
In A. D. 1032, this kingdom was inherited by 
the Emperor Conrad. But, as it was a re- 
mote dependency of the empire, the imperial 
rule rested lightly upon it ; so lightly, indeed, 
that it was practically independent, under its 
own feudal counts, acting as a sovereign state, 
and making treaties with other powers. At 
the time of the event we are describing, it was 
still thus situated, but was on the verge of a 
revolution ; for in 12 14 the citizens expelled the 
count, and, tempted and excited by the exam- 
ples of sister cities, formed a republic, which 
flourished until 1251, when the Count of Pro- 
vence annexed the aspiring state to his own 
dominions. The chief cause of the recovery of 
the importance and influence of Marseilles was 
the Crusades. Its harbor being so secure, for 
a Mediterranean port, it was a great point for 
shipping men and supplies in the prosecution 
of the wars in the Orient. It was thence that 
Richard I. departed in great state, and later 
still, Louis IX. was furnished by the town with 



150 JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN 

all the ships which his vain enterprise required. 
During the preceding centuries, the classic 
cities of Nimes, Narbonne, and Montpellier 
had risen to be the chief places of France, and, 
nestled amid their luxuriant fields and groves, 
they had become synonymous with splendor 
and wealth. But, with the revival of commerce, 
Marseilles was destined to resume her prece- 
dence of these less ancient rivals, and already 
in 1 212 her people anticipated even surpassing 
more favored Genoa or Pisa. Stately edifices 
were being erected by her ambitious citizens, 
and in the ship-yards they were constructing 
those mighty vessels which were regarded as 
able to conquer the seas. 

Such, then, was Marseilles when our young 
Crusaders reached it. The distance they had 
traveled was about three hundred miles, and 
the time, nearly a month. It was therefore 
towards the middle of August when they ar- 
rived at their destination. Although they 
started later than the German children, yet 
they reached the sea at an earlier day, as their 
journey was so much shorter; and, when they 
were resting from their fatigues, the followers 
of Nicholas and of the other leader were yet 
suffering in the Alps or in Italy. 

Many children had left the army on the way, 



MARSEILLES AND THE MERCHANTS I51 

and many more had succumbed to fatigue or 
had been captured. Yet the diminution of 
their numbers was not to be compared with 
that experienced by the German armies. One 
authority says that the number was almost as 
great as when they left Vendpme, and that 
many new adherents had joined the throng to 
take the places of those who deserted or fell by 
the wayside. Therefore it was not a worn-out 
and tattered band, counting but a fraction of its 
original size, which reached Marseilles, as had 
been that one which greeted Genoa so gladly ; 
but we see approaching the imposing number of 
at least twenty thousand children, who, though 
they had not reached Jerusalem as soon as 
they had hoped, still had their faith in their un- 
dertaking restored by arrival at the seashore. 

Halting, then, by the walls, they asked for 
shelter in the city. As at Genoa, it was stated 
that temporary rest was all they needed ; that, 
as God had promised to open for them a way 
through the sea, they would ask no vessels, re- 
quire no prolonged hospitality, but that per- 
haps on the morrow they would depart. Con- 
gratulated should be the people of that city 
which was selected as the point of departure 
of those who, as the Lord's soldiers, were to 
pass in security, as Israel had done, through 



152 JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN 

the waves which had ever been the terror of 
powerless mariners. Whether the Massihans 
appreciated the honor or not is another ques- 
tion. Having lived for some time by the sea- 
side, and not being credulous victims of a 
delusion, we may believe that they expected to 
have to make provision for some other mode 
of reaching Palestine, and did not rely much 
upon the prospect of having their city placed 
in history by the side of Pi-hahiroth and Gil- 
gal, as the scene of a miraculous control of 
the waters. On the contrary, many of the cit- 
izens were doubtless rejoiced at the chance of 
profiting by such an influx of pilgrims. The 
authorities may well have hesitated at admit- 
ting so formidable a host into the city, which 
did not even have the restraining influences of 
discipline, as was the case with older Crusad- 
ers. But there was a strong sympathy with the 
cause, and especially in view of the fact that 
the pilgrims were countrymen, did they hesitate 
to refuse to shelter them; while, on the other 
hand, there was no political reason to awaken 
distrust or fear, and the city had too often pro- 
vided for larger armies to be exhausted by one 
►like this. Accordingly, permission to tarry 
was granted, and among the throngs of won- 
dering people, the children, with their leaders, 



MARSEILLES AND THE MERCHANTS 1 53 

their priests, and their adult companions, en- 
tered the venerable gates. Their hymns were 
now sung with new earnestness, born of the 
encouragement of reaching so advanced a stage 
in their journey. Prouder than ever, they de- 
clared to the astonished beholders that they 
were to render brilliant with associations of 
victory, fields now for ages synonymous with 
defeat. The people, who had seen the hosts 
of Richard, in their manly strength and with 
their splendid accoutrements, enter the same 
gates with like high hopes twenty-two years 
before, may well have wondered at the sim- 
plicity of these youthful warriors. Some pitied 
them, as they thought of the rich harvest Death 
was to reap where he had already reaped so 
many, and prayed they might be spared the 
sad fate which thousands had met who sought 
that land, the footsteps on the road to which, 
like those before the cave of the fabled mon- 
ster, all pointed but in one direction. Others 
eagerly believed the story of divine interposi- 
tion to raise this army, and piously hoped that 
at last the object of so many toils and of so 
many prayers was to be attained. 

The children dispersed and sought lodging 
where it was to be had. The youths of noble 
birth found rest with those of their kindred or 



154 JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN 

of their rank. Others were received into inns 
and convents and monasteries. Others still, 
unable to find room, slept in those bed-cham- 
bers of the poor in every age — the streets. 

That night, as they saw the darkness creep 
over the earth, they went to sleep, full of hope 
that in the morning the constantly repeated 
promise of Stephen would be realized, and that 
their mission would be confirmed, as well as 
doubters refuted, by the spectacle of a way 
through the deep waters. 

The night passed away. Morning dawned ; 
but its light showed a still unsevered expanse, 
presenting no path for the pilgrim's foot. The 
waves rolled and curled and broke as unre- 
strainedly as ever, and told as plainly of un- 
bridled power. Great then was the perplexity 
of the children, but nevertheless they still 
hoped that another day might be more pro- 
pitious. And they waited for that day, and 
for still another and another. But during this 
delay their numbers diminished rapidly. The 
deception of the leaders became apparent, and 
the promises which had solaced them in weary 
marches, and kept up their courage, being so 
repeatedly falsified, they began to yield to de- 
spair and disgust. The army melted away, 
some departing each morning, when the path- 



MARSEILLES AND THE MERCHANTS 1 55 

way in the sea was again found unopened. 
However, there were still many who would not 
yield, but cherished the hope of reaching the 
Holy Land, and would wait longer for the ap- 
pointed passage thither. They looked wist- 
fully at the vessels in the harbor, and wished 
that, if their promised pathway were not to be 
granted, they might seek their destination on 
these. But their poverty precluded the pos- 
sibility of that ; and as day by day they stood 
sadly watching the sea, and yet found no re- 
alization of their hopes, even the most hopeful 
commenced to resign themselves to the belief 
that they had seen the end of a Crusade so tri- 
umphantly and so proudly begun. Throughout 
the ranks spread the determination to return, 
and in silent or in recriminating sorrow, all 
prepared for a disgraceful retracing of their 
steps. They cursed the deceivers who had led 
them thus astray, and reproached themselves 
as they thought of the taunts to be encoun- 
tered on the return, which they dreaded more 
than they prized the joy of being at home 
again. 

When in this sad plight, there came unex- 
pected relief, and their discouragement was 
changed to exultation, by an event which they 
considered a fulfillment of their hopes. 



156 JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN 

There were in Marseilles two merchants who 
drove a lucrative trade with other lands, and 
who, from their wealth, were clearly prominent 
men on the primitive ** Change " of those days. 
Their names, in the French form, have not 
been preserved ; the chroniclers tell us them 
in Latin, and they figure in history under the 
euphonious appellations of Hugo Ferreus and 
William Porcus. Undoubtedly the wits of the 
city had enjoyed many a joke upon them, but 
the conduct of the men who bore them was now 
to show these wits that a man's character is not 
to be determined by his name ; for, as they 
heard the complaints and witnessed the heart- 
rending disappointment of the little Crusaders, 
they were deeply moved. They saw them go 
down by the shore, and in childish eagerness 
scan the horizon, to find if there were no way 
to pass over the sea. The tears and cries of 
these weary, deluded ones, which awakened so 
much sympathy in all hearts, at last prompted 
these merchants to interfere and aid in the 
prosecution of a holy work apparently about 
to be frustrated. Accordingly, to the wonder 
and delight of all, they voluntarily offered to 
provide vessels to convey to Palestine as many 
as still desired to continue the pilgrimage. In 
their pious sympathy and interest in the de- 



MARSEILLES AND THE MERCHANTS 1 5/ 

filed Sepulchre, they would ask of Christ's sol- 
diers no money for their passage. They wished 
to do the deed, said they. Causa Dei^ absque pre- 
tiOf "for the cause of God, and without price." 
All the reward they desired was the conscious- 
ness of duty done, the prayers of the child- 
warriors of God, and the honor of aiding in 
the final and successful effort to rescue sacred 
places from unholy rulers. What better gain 
could they ask than the fame of being the great 
benefactors of those who were to place the 
Cross above the insulting Crescent } 

Great was the rejoicing now ! Stephen and 
his lieutenant prophets triumphantly proclaimed 
that their predictions were verified, and taunted 
the lack of faith of the discouraged. " This," 
said they, "was the vindication of their pro- 
phetic character ! This was the way through 
the sea which God had meant ! Was it not a 
miracle .'* Was it not a fulfillment of his prom- 
ise that they would find a path across the deep 
waters } All other Crusaders and all other pil- 
grims had been obliged to pay heavily for their 
conveyance to Palestine, yet it was to cost them 
nothing ! What better evidence of God's sanc- 
tion and aid could there be than this, that an 
obstacle, so insurmountable to others, had been 
removed for them ? " 



'158 JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN 

There were those, however, who did not 
yield to the newly awakened enthusiasm. They 
had learned to dread the sea, from the many 
adventures of peril of which they had heard 
during the previous Crusades ; and while they 
would have readily marched upon its bed, they 
feared to sail upon its surface. They gazed on 
its unbounded expanse, and its vastness awed 
them. Th6y had seen vessels come into port, 
rolling from side to side, and dashing the spray 
from their bows, and there was no charm for 
them in the idea of trusting themselves to its 
treacherous power. But there were many others 
who were willing to brave all this if they could 
only reach Jerusalem. The Lord, who sent the 
vessels, could guide and guard them. Their 
vows, their crosses on their breasts, their prom- 
ises, and their pride made these resolve to per- 
severe and seek the sacred shores. 

Accordingly, all who were willing to em- 
brace the offer of the merchants reported 
themselves, and it was ascertained that seven 
vessels would be required for their transporta- 
tion. From this we may, in connection with 
other data, conjecture how many they num- 
bered. We find, for instance, that in the ex- 
pedition of Saint Louis there were seven hun- 
dred on each ship, and we cannot be far wrong 



MARSEILLES AND THE MERCHANTS 1 59 

in supposing that the merchants would at 
least allot as many children to each of their 
vessels. There would be, then, we conclude, 
nearly five thousand to be provided for by 
these kind-hearted men. So we are reasona- 
bly led to believe that this, or one sixth of the 
original host which left Venddme, was the num- 
ber of those who expressed their readiness, after 
so many discouragements, to embark upon the 
sea. Among them, as we shall see in the sequel, 
were many adults, priests, and other ecclesias- 
tics, who really may never have expected to 
cross the Mediterranean in any other way, and 
to whom the perils of navigation were not 
unanticipated. 

We now see the enterprising and benevolent 
merchants preparing their vessels for the de- 
parture of the earnest little Crusaders, who 
would not return unless they came as deliv- 
erers of the Sepulchre. The inhabitants of 
Marseilles were proud of their townsmen's 
liberality, and of the fact that they possessed 
citizens able to afford so munificent a ben- 
efaction. Their praises were on every lip, and 
the people lent their lively interest in behalf of 
an enterprise which, once so apparently vain, 
now promised such success. 



l60 JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN 

IV 

The Embarkation 

When we look through the chronicles of the 
days to which our story carries us, we are en- 
tertained by the many and quaint names by 
which the different kinds of vessels were dis- 
tinguished. We read enthusiastic accounts of 
the grace, the elegance, and speed of their gal- 
leys, designed both to convey passengers and 
also for purposes of war. Those of similar style 
but of smaller size were galleons, employed for 
light work and for skirmishing. We then read 
of busses, or buzas, which were used chiefly 
for commerce, and were consequently more 
clumsy, while the simple-hearted old writers, 
who in their cloistered homes had never seen 
such things, descant with wonder on the gigan- 
tic dromons, the largest barks that plowed the 
sea, and whose mention suggested wealth that 
astonished the landsman and made the pirate 
sleepless. And some, with a superabundance 
of nautical lore, probably to show that know- 
ledge, dilate upon the speed and the size, the 
mishaps and adventures of gulafres, cats, and 
other undescribed triumphs of human inge- 
nuity. The language which is employed by 
Richard of Devizes, or Geoffrey de Vinsauf, 



THE EMBARKATION l6l 

or Joinville, concerning the ships which bore 
Richard I. and Louis IX. across the waters, 
would lead us to picture these heroes as sailing 
on vessels like those which astonish us to-day. 
In the light of modern achievements in the con- 
struction of vessels, it sounds rather amusing to 
hear the qualifications " gigantic," " towering," 
" mighty," applied to boats of two hundred, or, 
at the most, three hundred tons. It was not 
until the emergencies of later ages, and the 
development of the arts and sciences, that 
larger hulks were built. At this time a great 
change was taking place in navigation. The 
use of oars was being discarded, and vessels 
were made to be propelled entirely by the 
wind. Some of the '' dromons " are said, won- 
derful to relate, to have had three masts ! 
There were no graceful stems which divided 
the waters like knives. The waves were pushed 
aside by broad bows, which presented tempting 
expanses for those waves to retaliate by buffet- 
ings. Instead of delicate sterns, whose graceful 
curves would scarcely cause a perceptible wake, 
angular, clumsy surfaces sustained a lofty and 
perilous poop, and the entire form of the struc- 
ture was eminently adapted to unlimited rolling 
and pitching, evidence of which is furnished by 
the constantly narrated miseries of voyagers. 



1 62 JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN 

As regards the vessels provided by the mer- 
chants, the rate at which they traveled, as we 
shall subsequently see, shows that they were 
propelled by sails. But whether the seven 
ships, which in the port of Marseilles awaited 
their precious burdens, were gulafres, or gal- 
leys, or cats, or dromons, or buzas, to those 
who were accustomed only to the barks which 
floated on the Seine or the Loire or the Rhone, 
they seemed immense monsters, and reassured 
the hearts of the little ones, by their evident 
ability to conquer the deep, and brave in safety 
perils of wind, of water, or of reef. 

At last the preparations were all completed, 
and the day dawned when the young heroes 
were to leave their native shores and seek those 
whither had gone so many other hosts, as full 
of hope, to find only misery and death.^ The 
sun, as it gilded with its first rays the hills 
around the city, called from sleepless couches 
the excited and anxious children, who to-day 
were to become real Crusaders^ and, like other 
brave heroes, to sail out upon the sea. They 
passed the necessary time in religious prepa- 
ration, thronging the churches to receive bless- 
ings and absolutions, and then sought the water's 

1 For ceremonies attending embarkation, see Joinville and 
other crusading chroniclers. 



THE EMBARKATION- 1 63 

edge to await embarkation. Very striking must 
the spectacle have been, when in that land- 
locked bay the vessels were waiting with flags 
flying, and when along the shore, the citizens, 
attracted by the interest and novelty of the 
event, crowded to behold the scene. The 
gaudy colors of the banners and of the dresses 
of the groups upon the beach, blended with 
the golden tints in which the fronts of the 
quaint old houses were bathed, and with the 
blue water and the azure sky, made a picture 
on which imagination fondly dwells. 

It was natural for the people to contrast the 
embarkation of these Crusaders with the last 
departure of an army from that port, bound on 
a similar enterprise. It had occurred twenty- 
two years before, when, in 1190, Richard I. of 
England had sailed from thence to Messina, 
where he was to meet Philip of France, from 
which place they proceeded together to Pales- 
tine. That had been a notable sight. There 
were "one hundred and fourteen vessels of 
great magnitude," and at the masthead of each 
flew the ensign of England's king. The his- 
torian, sober Richard of Devizes, a credulous 
and honest old soul, tells us that "there was 
on each ship double of whatever a ship could 
want, except the mast and the ship's boat ; a 



1 64 JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN 

fleet wonderful for its numbers, complement, 
and the splendor of its array, and the like of 
which none was ever seen, fitted out with such 
labor, and so numerous." But now the Massil- 
ians saw a few thousand children about to em- 
bark on seven vessels, with no king or prince to 
lead them, no bright armor or glittering lances, 
no flag that told of victories, but, nevertheless, 
as confident and as hopeful as the warriors who 
had preceded them on the pathway to Pales- 
tine. How many were there in that crowd of 
observers who foresaw the certain issue of this 
enterprise ! They had seen the army of Rich- 
ard depart, but to perish, and they judged well 
that where those heroes had fallen, these chil- 
dren would not succeed. It may be that some 
were present who had been beyond the seas, 
and knew by bitter experience the perils of the 
deep and the character of the Moslem enemy, 
and they shuddered at the vision which was 
conjured up as they thought of so many chil- 
dren falling into the power of those heathen. 

The embarkation proceeded. Entering into 
skiffs, the youths were borne to the vessels 
amidst the sad farewells of friends who loved 
them, and of companions who feared to con- 
tinue the undertaking, which they had vowed 
to complete ere they knew its dangers, as well 



THE EMBARKATION 165 

as amidst the cheers of the enthusiastic and of 
the sympathizing. Steeling their little hearts 
against discouragement and dread, they left 
the shore in companies, until the last one had 
stepped from the soil of France. When the 
ships were full, the ports were closed, through 
which they had entered, and they within, as 
well as those on the beach, were reminded that 
there was now no withdrawing, no retreat. 

The ceremonies attending setting sail were 
solemn, because in those times it was a serious 
thing to commence a voyage over the sea, and 
the nature of the enterprise made religious rites 
appropriate and customary. 

The captains examined all parts of the ships 
to make certain that they were in proper order 
for such a dangerous voyage. As one says, 
" The ports were stopped up as close as a large 
tun of wine." The sailors were stationed at 
their respective posts ; the anchor chains were 
loosened, ready to release the vessels in a mo- 
ment, and the ropes held in hand. All being 
thus prepared, silence ensued for a brief space 
of time. Then upon the elevated " castle " or 
stern of each ship, the assembled priests, in 
sweet accord, commenced to chant that dear 
old hymn, sacred with the associations of cen- 
turies, "Veni Creator Spiritus." As these 



1 66 JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN 

words, which the Church in all ages has used 
on holy occasions, were begun by those on the 
foremost vessel, the sound floated to the next, 
where it was taken up, and then the next con- 
tinued it, so that soon from all the ships rose 
the solemn, prayerful chant, in which the strong 
voices of manhood blended with the silvery 
tones of children, and formed a harmony that 
was wafted away to the hills by the willing 
breeze. 1 

While this hymn was still sounding on the 
air, and the hearts of all were full of contending 
emotions, "the sailors set their sails in the 
name of God." The white wings filled at once, 
and sought to set the vessels free. Another 
moment of pause, and then, at a common signal, 
the anchors were raised from their rocky beds. 
The ships began to move. With none of the 
noisy circumstances of these days of steamers, 
but silently gliding, they sought the mouth of 
the harbor, without interrupting the music, 
which still rose on the air. In quiet stateliness, 
they passed beneath the lofty rock of Notre 
Dame de la Garde, from which looked down on 
them, as it does to-day, the Chapel of the Sail- 
ors, and immediately the crisp waves and the 

1 This hymn was always sung on such occasions. Vide 
Joinville. 



THE EMBARKATION 1 67 

fresh breeze and the boundless horizon told the 
little voyagers that they were at sea ! 

The crowds sought the cliffs that they might 
watch the seven vessels until they disappeared. 
How eagerly did they look who had once been 
numbered with the army ! As now they saw 
the ships bounding gladly over the waters, the 
sails bellying with the health-giving wind, and 
the oriflammes and banners waving so bril- 
liantly, and as they heard the shouts of exul- 
tation and the songs of triumph which their 
former companions uttered, more than one 
regretted his retreat, and would gladly have 
rejoined the band that seemed really destined 
to win fame and honor. But they sadly felt 
that it was too late, and that now they must 
commence again the weary and tedious march 
back to their distant and inglorious homes, 
where they would have to bear the shame of 
hearing tidings of the progress of an enterprise 
from which they had cravenly withdrawn. 

Behold then the citizens and the timid chil- 
dren watching the receding ships. Soon the 
songs grow indistinct, as they come over the 
water — then they become inaudible. After 
that the flags and banners still tell of hope and 
of joy, until their colors are invisible. The day 
draws to its close ; and when, upon the blue hills ■ 



1 68 JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN 

of the east there fall the bright rays of the set- 
ting sun, the ships which bear the precious 
burdens are far away, and seem as seven white 
birds nestling on the deep for the slumber of 
night. Then over all creeps the twilight, and 
the watchers on the shore return to the city, 
casting a longing look after the pilgrims, as they 
had often done before, after other and older 
ones. 

Darkness then comes on, and in its sable 
folds covers the land and the sea, and envelops 
the seven ships that were sailing away with the 
five thousand little pilgrims to seek the land of 
Israel. 



CHAPTER VIII 

THE TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA 



The Long Suspense 

When the seven ships sailed away into that 
August night they were not heard of again for 
eighteen long years. 

After that several months had elapsed and 
the time had come when tidings of their arri- 
val in Palestine should reach France, each re- 
turning Crusader, or pilgrim, or merchant was 
asked if he had any news of the children who 
had embarked to seek the Holy Land. To all 
these inquiries the reply was given that no such 
fleet had been heard of in any port. As weeks 
passed by, the anxiety increased, and every 
ship was eagerly expected to bring the news, 
but yet none could give the hoped-for answer. 
Still the anxious trusted that the delay was due 
to contrary winds, or to the children having dis- 
embarked in Sicily or Rhodes to rest, and that 
they would yet laugh at their fears, when some 



170 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA 

welcome bark brought the story of arrival and 
of victory. A year passed away, and another, 
until all hope died, and they who had treasures 
on the missing vessels resigned themselves to 
the belief that beneath the waters their dear 
ones lay, overwhelmed in some disastrous 
storm. 

The succeeding years were stirring ones. 
The strife between Otho and Frederick for the 
crown of Germany was ended by the triumph 
of the latter, who began his splendid reign in 
his southern home at Naples, where he gath- 
ered the most elegant court which had yet been 
seen in Europe. But Innocent, who had raised 
him, found that he could not rule him ; and, after 
years of strife, he had to compromise with him 
at last in 1230. In England, the misfortunes 
of John continued. His barons made him sign 
the Magna Charta in 121 5, and then Innocent, 
with whose claims this document conflicted, 
found himself obliged to turn and uphold the 
king whom he had so lately sought to crush, 
in order that John might be able to break loose 
from the engagement. Thus, beaten about by 
the Pope and his subjects, the poor man died, 
broken-hearted. Henry III. ascended the 
throne, and his reign, during the period with 
which we are concerned, was peaceful. 



THE LONG SUSPENSE 171 

But above all was Europe excited by the 
resuscitation of interest in the Crusades. Inno- 
cent, finding his previous measures vain, had 
summoned the Lateran Council, in order to 
awaken the Church to its duty. At this great 
assembly from all parts of Christendom, the 
Pontiff urged in plaintive or in threatening 
tones, as suited him, the sorrowful condition of 
the Christians in Palestine, and the hopeless 
state of the cause. He appealed to them to 
avenge the slain, to put an end to the sufferings 
of those pining in prisons, or in slavery, and 
to deliver the holy places, now weeping under 
the footsteps of the heathen. His endeavors 
succeeded. The Council granted him all the 
aid he asked, passed the measures he proposed, 
and the Sixth Crusade was ordered. It was so 
diligently and effectually preached that, in 1 2 1 7, 
the largest army was gathered which had ever 
taken the Cross, and, under Andrew, King of 
Hungary, departed from Spalatro and Brun- 
dusium. The peculiar feature of this Crusade 
was, that, while the interest in the cause was 
less than usual among the nobility, among the 
people it was greater, and they rushed to en- 
list, indignant at the apathy of their superiors. 
The fleets reached Ptolemais in safety, and were 
welcomed as liberating angels by the belea- 



1/2 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA 

guered Christians. Hopes long dormant were 
revived, and again was it expected that the 
King of Jerusalem would, from his throne in 
that city, rule the redeemed land. But these 
hopes were soon to be dashed by the weak 
conduct of Andrew, who became discouraged 
in the hour of success, and returned to Europe 
with half of his troops. As trophies, he took 
with him the head of Peter, the right hand of 
Thomas, and one of the seven " water-pots " in 
which the wine was made at Cana. This treas- 
ure comforted him, and, as he said, rewarded 
his trust in its efficacy, for at once a dangerous 
conspiracy was suppressed, when he reached 
his dominions with these relics. Yet, as other 
bands of Crusaders from the northern parts of 
Europe arrived afterwards, the armies in Pales- 
tine were still formidable. At this time, how- 
ever, the resolve was made to seek a new road 
to Jerusalem by breaking the Mohammedan 
power in another quarter. Accordingly, they 
all embarked for Egypt, and in April, 1218, 
after a siege of several months, had gained 
only part of the defenses of Damietta, when 
the most of the army, weary and discouraged 
by the desperate resistance which they met, 
returned home with no fruits of their valor. 
But others who came from Southern Europe as 



THE LONG SUSPENSE 1 73 

these departed, maintained the siege for a year 
and a half, enduring all forms of suffering. At 
last, finding that no beleaguering could starve 
the defenders into a surrender, an assault was 
ordered, when to the horror of the Christians, 
they found defenseless walls around a deserted 
city. Of the seventy thousand Moslems who 
had entered there to uphold their cause, only 
three thousand remained, who looked more like 
spectres than men. This was one of the most 
brilliant crises of the Crusades. The Moham- 
medans now offered full possession of the Holy 
Land, if the Christians would abandon Egypt. 
But in the flush of victory these terms were 
foolishly rej ected, and they demanded the wealth 
of the latter to minister to the glory of the for- 
mer. The Saracens refused to yield any more, 
and renewed the war, the result of which was 
that soon they were so victorious that the deci- 
mated and famished Crusaders were glad to ask 
permission to embark and return to Europe. 

After an interval of several years, Frederick 
of Germany at last undertook his long contem- 
plated Crusade. He had made the promise to 
the Pope, but now being under excommunica- 
tion, was forbidden to carry it out, and actually 
had to encounter a prohibition addressed to all 
the world against aiding him. But he persisted, 



174 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA 

and gained splendid success. Within a year 
he had so humbled the Sultan that a treaty was 
granted, by which a truce of ten years was de- 
clared, and the possession of Jerusalem freely 
made over to the Christians. The emperor 
signalized his triumph there by his coronation. 
The affairs of his dominions calling him home, 
the Christians were left in 1229 by this, the 
most romantic of the Crusades, dwelling se- 
curely again in the city which had been the 
object of so many prayers, so many tears, and 
so many wars. 

These were the events which intervened be- 
tween the departure of the army of children 
from Marseilles and the date at which we 
again take up the thread of their story. 

During all these vicissitudes, and the attend- 
ant excitement throughout Europe, the events 
of 1 212 grew remote, and the children were 
forgotten by the nations who had seen and suf- 
fered so much in the interval. Yet they were 
not forgotten by all, for that strange Crusade 
was ever in the minds of many a noble and of 
many a peasant of France. 

They who had been members of the army 
of Stephen, but who had returned from Mar- 
seilles, did not forget their companions, whose 
fate was involved in obscurity. As had been 



THE LONG SUSPENSE I^$ 

the case with the Germans, they were held 
to their vows by the Pope, and commanded to 
redeem their promise to fight for the sacred 
cause when they reached maturer years ; only 
those were exempted who were too young to 
comprehend the nature of a vow, or too aged to 
be of any service in the army. Many of these 
were in the ranks which fought at Damietta 
and fell there, or returned wiser men. When 
they had abandoned the enterprise at Mar- 
seilles, they regretted for a while that they had 
not possessed enough endurance to persevere. 
But as time flew by, and no tidings came of 
glory, nor even of the fate of those who had 
sailed on the seven vessels, and as the different 
ways in which they might have perished were 
considered, they rejoiced at their return, and 
compassionated those whom they once had 
envied. 

And the five thousand were also remembered 
by many a stricken household, and many a tear 
was called forth by the recollection of their 
departure. As long as there was any chance, 
hope lingered; but when year after year had 
passed away, and there had come no tidings, 
it vanished, and all hearts yielded to the con- 
viction that the bed of the sea had become the 
unknelled and uncoffined sepulchre of those 



176 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA 

who had expected to make it their triumphant 
pathway. The people of Marseilles remem- 
bered too the seven vessels that had departed 
from their port with their novel burdens, but 
that had never reached their destination, and 
they were wont to speak of and muse upon 
the mystery of their fate. Porcus and Ferreus 
were objects of sympathy, it may be, for their 
disinterestedness, which had cost them so 
much. But they asked no reward or sympathy 
when so great a calamity as the destruction 
of the children overshadowed their lesser mis- 
fortune. 

During the progress of the Crusades which 
had occurred since 121 2, it was natural to sup- 
pose that those expeditions would lead to a 
solution of the mystery, and efforts were prob- 
ably made by them to ascertain the fate of the 
children. But all was in vain. Victory was 
enjoyed and defeat experienced, but no light 
was shed upon the ^ad question. 

Eighteen years thus passed without any 
tidings from beyond the sea, or any clue as to 
the fate of the five thousand children. The 
day of judgment alone, it was believed, would 
raise the veil from the sad mystery. 

The year 1230 had come, and the cloud 



THE DEPARTURE FROM MARSEILLES 1 77 

which enveloped the strange story was as dark 
as ever, when one day an aged priest arrived 
in Europe who said that he was one of those 
who had sailed from Marseilles in 12 12, and 
that he was able to tell the result of the enter- 
prise. The news spread through France and 
Germany, and all hearts were thrilled, as from 
home to home the report flew that the long- 
mourned little ones had been heard from, that 
one of their company had returned. Let us 
now take up the narrative where we dropped 
it, and continue it, as related by the priest, 
whose tale is preserved by several chroniclers, 
but principally by one old monk who dwelt 
in Liege. 1 

II 

The Departure from Marseilles 

If they who, from the mouth of the harbor, 
watched the receding vessels on that day of 
parting, had strange thoughts passing through 
their minds, more peculiar were the emotions 
experienced by those who, sailing out upon the 
great and mysterious deep, saw the land becom- 
ing hourly more remote and more indistinct. 
At first, the flush of hope drew shouts and 

^ The priest's story is preserved by Albericus, the Great 
Belgian Chronicle, Roger Bacon, and Thomas de ChamprS. 



178 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA 

songs from all, but soon more than one face 
was wet with tears, as they realized that strange 
and sorrowful vicissitudes might have to be en- 
countered before they should again greet those 
retreating shores. They felt that they might 
yet have to share the captivity and death of 
those whom they had enlisted to avenge. The 
leaders sought diligently to banish all such 
gloomy thoughts, by promises of glory and 
reminding them of God's evident favor. They 
spoke of a brief and pleasant voyage over the 
beautiful sea, by many a lovely island on which 
all fruits grew, to the land made sacred by the 
memories of Jesus and of Mary, and where they 
were to reap the honors which kings and no- 
bles and mailed men had failed to win. This 
may have succeeded for a while ; but as the day 
advanced the children could not be kept from 
despondent musings on the perils of the sea. 
The terrors associated with it in those days of 
superstition and of ignorance cannot be appre- 
ciated by us, in whose time it seems so nearly 
■ conquered. Each pilgrim, or sailor, or Cru- 
sader who crossed it brought home many won- 
derful stories, which were readily believed by 
the credulous, and all were credulous then. 
Priest and layman, noble and peasant, lived 
equally under a craven fear of the supernatural 



THE DEPARTURE FROM MARSEILLES 1 79 

By those whose minds were so full of fables, 
the ordinary phenomena of nature were trans- 
formed into miracles of God or wonders of 
Satan, and every voyage added to the stock 
of tales which were current as to the terrors of 
the deep. The chronicles of mediaeval times 
are full of them, when they refer to the sea at 
all. One writer tells us that " in that part of 
the Mediterranean which lies by the coast of 
Africa, the water is always boiling, on account 
of the great heat, and that consequently there 
are no fishes," — of course implying that navi- 
gation is not pleasant there. Another tells us 
that in some parts of the same coast " the sea 
is higher than the land, and it seemeth that it 
would cover the earth, and yet it passeth not 
its bounds. And in this land, whoso turneth 
himself toward the East, the shadow of himself 
is on the right side, and here in our country 
the shadow is on the left side." The peculiar 
reason for assigning these strange features to 
the coast of Africa was that, owing to dread of 
the Mohammedans who peopled it, the Chris- 
tian sailors dared not approach it, and where 
they could not discover by investigation, imagi- 
nation was always busy in filling up the un- 
known regions, very much as human nature is 
prone to do, even now. 



l80 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA 

Another traveler tells us of *' a great, round 
mountain " which they met with at sea one 
Saturday at vesper time. Having passed it, 
they made all sail during the night ; and as 
their fancy peopled it with " griffons," Saracens, 
and other disagreeable inhabitants, they desired 
to leave it behind as rapidly as possible. But 
in the morning, when they supposed it ''fifty 
leagues astern," they were dismayed at behold- 
ing it fearfully near. In terror lest the dwell- 
ers on this remarkable island should capture 
them and put them to death, at the recom- 
mendation of "a discreet churchman," the pas- 
sengers sought, by religious ceremonies, to dis- 
solve the spell which either kept the vessel still, 
or else drew the mountain after it. Proces- 
sions with litanies were made around the masts 
of the ship, and soon, to their joy, it receded 
rapidly. The narrator, in simplicity, and ap- 
parently to shift the responsibility for the story, 
adds that during this time he was below, ter- 
ribly seasick. The phenomenon of the Fata 
Morgana was not understood, and very natu- 
rally plays a prominent part among the wonders 
of the sea. Pilgrims often tell us of its freaks. 
They say that before them they would see a 
beautiful expanse, with gardens and groves, 
among which were stately edifices and dazzling 



, THE DEPARTURE FROM MARSEILLES l8l 

palaces, forming a scene of rare luxuriance, all 
resting upon the waters, and fading away on 
either side into nothingness. In wonder the 
mariners would sail towards the shore, and when 
it seemed that their course was about to lie 
through fields and flowers, all would vanish in 
a twinkling, leaving the unrelieved waste of 
waters. 

In consequence of such stories, the real perils 
were those the least dreaded. Saints could not 
be relied on against such things as phantom 
ships, and mighty spirits which appeared in the 
storm, or against ravishing sights and sounds 
which treacherously led the unwary to the hid- 
den reefs, or '^ single waves of towering size," 
that were sometimes to be seen rolling alone 
over the sea, or winds that often lifted vessels 
out of the water. Yet the people also feared 
the ordinary dangers of the deep, and with 
reason. The vessels were comparatively frail ; 
they were scarcely manageable in a storm, and 
navigation was little understood. Hardly a 
fleet is reported to have crossed the Mediterra- 
nean without a large part of the ships being lost 
in one way or another, and rarely were any of 
the passengers or of the crew rescued, because 
there were no proper means to that end. 

All these and other dangers were, of course. 



1 82 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA 

familiar by report to the children whose for- 
tunes we are following, and an excited memory 
brought them up as the hills of France grew 
indistinct and the twilight came on. Wistfully 
did they watch the coast, until no longer dis- 
cernible, and as darkness descended there were 
many hearts which regretted the decision to 
persevere in the Crusade. But even the most 
anxious became weary, and eyes which had 
been strained to peer through the dimness 
were tired, and readily closed in sleep. Side 
by side the seven vessels sailed through the 
night before the favoring breeze, gently rising 
and falling on the billows, while their living 
cargoes, slumbering within them, forgot, in the 
pleasures of dreamland, their regrets and their 
fears. 

The morning came, and found the ships 
making good progress on their course, with 
the dark and rocky coast of Corsica in the 
distance on their left hand. This day closed, 
and the second evening after their departure 
the vessels were sailing by the southern ex- 
tremity of that rugged island. A few more 
such days, said the little ones, and we will 
reach the Holy Land. Alas ! they knew not 
what the morrow was to reveal ! 



SHIPWRECK ON THE ISLE OF FALCONS 1 83 

III 

The Shipwreck on the Isle of Falcons^ or San Pietro 

Clustered around the southwestern extrem- 
ity of the Island of Sardinia lies a group of 
smaller islands, which were well known to the 
ancients, as they lay in the much traveled route 
between Gaul and Greece, Italy, or Egypt. As 
adventurous Greeks had passed them, far back 
in the twilight of history, they noticed that the 
largest and the most westward of them was 
frequented by flocks of falcons. In view of this 
they gave it the name of Hierakon, which in 
later times was translated into the Latin equiv- 
alent, Accipitrum, both meaning the Island 
of Falcons. When this latter language had 
passed away, and Italian had taken its place, 
we find that the name it bore was San Pietro, 
by which it is still called. It is probable, 
as has been suggested, that this was a mere 
corruption of the Latin, for the words re- 
semble each other in sound, and the former 
designation could easily glide into the latter, 
especially among those who loved to call all 
places after saints, and to whom such an 
opportunity to honor Peter was too good to 
be lost. 

This island, two or three miles long, termi- 



1 84 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA 

nates to the northward in an abrupt and high 
cHff. Thence it slopes away to the southward, 
and ends in a plain that inclines gently to the 
sea. Its surface being barren and destitute of 
fresh water, it has not been inhabited until 
recently, except that in summer fishermen 
made it their temporary place of sojourn, while 
they caught the tunnies which abound in the 
surrounding waters. But they only enlivened 
the scene for a few weeks, and, after that, the 
ashes of their fires alone remained to tell that 
man had trodden its silent shores. 

Yet, in the long history of the island, it had 
known a brief period when it was not entirely 
uninhabited. In days which are remote and un- 
recorded, some man, disgusted with the world, 
had made there his abode. He did not dwell 
actually on the main island, but upon a smaller 
one which is severed from it by a chasm, — a 
mere rock in comparison, — but which, seen 
from certain directions, seems as one with it. 
It may be that he fled hither from the scenes 
of pillage which were witnessed when the 
northern barbarians overran Italy, or that, 
when religion had sunk as low as the once 
proud city of Cassar had fallen, his heart longed 
for purer associations, and deliverance from 
scenes of temptation and of hypocrisy. What- 



SHIPWRECK ON THE ISLE OF FALCONS 1 85 

ever it was that impelled this unnamed man, he 
knew that only in solitude could he worship 
God in freedom, — only in some remote spot 
could he escape the miseries of the age. And 
it may have been that, as he had, on some jour- 
ney, been musing on this longing of his heart, 
he passed by this lonely isle, whose solitude 
and beauty met his desires, so that he chose it 
as his home, and fixed on the small islet by its 
side for the erection of his hut. 

There through the years he dwelt, and from 
the high cliffs, where the fresh winds brought 
exhilaration and associations of purity, he 
looked forth over the magnificent waters to 
where they met the sky, and found food for 
ceaseless meditation in contemplating their 
ever varying appearance. When the storm 
was abroad he watched its fury, and then, when 
it was subdued, he beheld the foam-streaked 
waves settle to rest again beneath the returned 
sunlight. And from scenes like these his 
thoughts wandered forth to that land beyond 
the sunset and beyond the clouds, where weary 
mortals rest, and of which he read, in the vi- 
sion of Patmos, which was congenial to him, 
written by another exile on a lonely rock, that 
" there shall be no more sea." When, day by 
day, the vessels passed in the offing to and 



1 86 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA 

from the busy marts of commerce, he thought 
of the life he had left, of which they were sug- 
gestive reminders, not to wish he were again 
in its scenes, but to rejoice that he was free 
from its cares, its perils, and its sins. The 
fishermen, as they came each summer, used to 
see him standing by his little hut, or sitting on 
some rocky eminence, and they returned to 
tell strange stories of the solitary inhabitant of 
that barren island, while he found pleasure in 
listening to their melodious songs, which were 
borne to his ears as they dried their nets on 
the shore. Time rolled on ; the seasons came 
and went, until he died in his loneliness, and 
the waters he had learned to love sounded a 
dirge around his desolate sepulchre. When 
the next summer arrived, the returning fisher- 
men missed him in his accustomed places, and 
they knew that on some wild, cold day of win- 
ter, the mysterious recluse had gone away from 
the world which had afforded him so unenvi- 
able a home. 

And thus he came and passed away, but the 
place of his dwelling was remembered and his 
story perpetuated, for fishermen were wont to 
point out to their comrades from age to age 
the Hermit's Rock, lying beneath the cliffs of 
San Pietro. 



SHIPWRECK ON THE ISLE OF FALCONS 1 8/ 

When last we saw the children on the seven 
ships, the second evening of their voyage was 
approaching, and they were about passing -from 
the coast of Corsica to that of Sardinia. The 
night passed away, and when the morning 
came, they saw, on their left hand, the moun- 
tains and bays of the latter island. Their prog- 
ress had therefore been so rapid that all au- 
gured well for a speedy passage to Palestine. 
But that day was to blight their hopes. For a 
storm arose, and in its power tossed the vessels 
about like toys, bringing to the children's 
hearts dismay and misery. As the hours 
elapsed, their sufferings and terror increased, 
for, as we have seen, the primitive build of the 
ships and the undeveloped state of navigation 
rendered a tempest a fearful thing, beyond 
what we can now appreciate. Huddled to- 
gether below the decks, the little Crusaders 
heard the waves strike blows upon the frail 
planks, which threatened each moment to 
yield, and they were thrown from side to side 
as the vessels pitched and rolled. Whatever 
elation they may have felt at the prospect of 
reaching the goal of their enterprise now died 
away, and their fears, their sickness, and their 
bruises drew forth ejaculations of distress and 
prayers for mercy, which were smothered by 



1 88 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA 

the roaring winds ere they had wandered far 
from the staggering barks. The scene on each 
vessel may easily be imagined, where several 
hundred children were crowded, expecting 
momentarily to be engulfed in the sea. The 
priests who had accompanied them, if they 
sought to administer consolation, told of the 
promise of the Church that they who died in 
the cause of the Cross should enter at once 
upon eternal blessedness, and be sure of a com- 
plete forgiveness ; that they might meet their 
death in the storm or in the battle : either was, 
for such as they, a portal opening directly into 
Paradise. They said that, in that world of 
bliss, they might stand side by side with the 
heroes who had fallen on the blood-stained 
fields of Palestine, though their feet had never 
trodden those plains. But words were vain to 
these terrified children. They dreaded death 
in the angry sea. At length, as the unmanage- 
able ships drove on, they came in sight of the 
island of San Pietro, looming up before them 
in the mist. Here was a faint hope ! If they 
could weather that point, before them was an 
open sea where they could run before the 
wind, with no fear of reefs or rocks. The ves- 
sels had become scattered in the storm, and it 
was evident that some of them could avoid the 



SHIPWRECK ON THE ISLE OF FALCONS 1 89 

island, while others were too far to leeward. 
How anxiously did they see the island become 
nearer and nearer ! It soon became manifest 
that at least two of the ships were doomed, — 
that they were irresistibly driving toward the 
great white breakers, which seemed exulting 
at the prospect of the fair prey that they were 
soon to grasp and to dash to pieces in their re- 
morseless sport. The minutes passed in awful 
suspense. Those on the five vessels which 
were to escape beheld with anguish the ap- 
proaching fate of their comrades. Swiftly 
they drifted on towards their dreadful end. 
At last they were close to that rock which was 
washed by the spray, beneath the high cliffs of 
San Pietro, and over which the falcons hovered 
and screamed. There was a moment of pause 
between the final billows. That moment 
passed, and the next wave tossed them among 
the breakers. The shrieks and prayers of the 
perishing rose in agony on the air. Wave 
after wave washed them off the decks. A few 
more blows broke the hulks in pieces, and then 
all cries were silenced in the waters. 

When the storm had ended and the darkness 
had gone, the returning sunlight fell on broken 
timbers and splintered spars, and beheld the 
subsiding seas tossing to and fro among the 



1 90 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA 

wet rocks the pale and mangled corpses of 
more than a thousand children. 

And so, in the twelve hundred and twelfth 
year of grace were two ships, laden with fair 
and hopeful youths of France, who had taken 
the Cross under the guidance of Stephen, 
wrecked in a wild storm at the foot of the 
Hermit's Rock. 



IV 

The Captives of Bujeiah 

About one hundred miles east of the city of 
Algiers, the sailor finds the best harbor on the 
Mediterranean coast of Africa, where in case 
of storm he may have far safer and pleasanter 
anchorage than even Alexandria and other fa- 
mous havens can provide. It runs obliquely 
into the land, and the winds and waves of the 
sea are shut out by an elevated, narrow prom- 
ontory, which forms a splendid breakwater of 
a mile in length, in the lee of which there is 
always a calm. And as the mariner lies there 
at anchor, waiting for the tempest without to 
cease, he is struck by the picturesque beauty 
of the scenery around him. To the south and 
westward rise lofty mountains, one behind an- 
other, until lost in the distance, and they are 



THE CAPTIVES OF BUJEIAH 19 1 

of SO great an altitude that snow rests on them 
until June, although the climate is tropical. 
Their slopes, and the valleys between, are cov- 
ered with luxuriant groves of cypress and fig 
trees, chestnuts and olives, while down to the 
shore come yellow fields of barley, and arbors 
laden with purple grapes. In the corner, where 
the promontory juts out from the mainland, 
looking across the gulf toward the mountains, 
extensive and ancient walls inclose a vast, lux- 
uriant orchard, and through its dense foliage 
peep out the white houses and turrets of the 
city of Bujeiah. Above this there rises the hill 
of Gouraya, beautifully terraced to the eleva- 
tion of two thousand feet, and as it were guard- 
ing the town which nestles at its base.^ 

Those walls, so entirely disproportioned to 
the population they now contain, indicate a 
past of greater prosperity, and tell the beholder 
that once there was a vast city where the 
orchards grow. The feature of a safe harbor, 
so rare on that inhospitable coast, made this 
a commercial point at an early period. The 

1 For descriptions of Bujeiah as it was and as it is, see 
Rozet, Shaw, Bureau de la Malle, and other travelers in 
Algeria and Kabylia; also Conde's Arabs in Spain, chap. 
xlii. It is because wax candles were once imported in 
great quantities from this place that the French called them 
" Bougies," which is the French name of the city. 



192 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA 

Carthaginians founded here an important col- 
ony, called Saldae, which continued to flourish 
after Rome had conquered and absorbed the 
possessions of her rival. When Rome in turn 
fell before conquerors, Saldae declined and al- 
most disappeared. When the Saracens be- 
came masters of this part of Africa, they saw 
the value of the position, and a new city rose 
on the ruins of the old one, which was called 
Bedschijah, or Bujeiah. In the twelfth century 
it was the capital of a large kingdom, whose 
sovereigns were independent of the Caliphs, 
and ruled from Tunis to Gibraltar. But in 
1 15 1, Abdelraumen, who governed the Sara- 
cens in Spain, subdued this kingdom, and, at 
the time of the Children's Crusade, it remained 
subject to his successors. It was now in its 
glory, having within its walls over one hundred 
thousand inhabitants. It was, next to Cairo, 
the principal city in Africa, and possessed a 
lucrative and extensive commerce. The wri- 
ters of the time dwell fondly on its praise, tell- 
ing us that, in the splendor of its edifices and 
the wealth and luxury of its people, it excelled, 
as it probably did at the time, any place on the 
Mediterranean. The Mohammedans of all 
lands acknowledged it to be one of the holy 
cities, and gave it the name of " Little Mecca." 



THE CAPTIVES OF BUJEIAH 1 93 

To this place, in this its era of power and 
beauty, does our story take us now. 

The children on the five ships had sorrow- 
fully seen their unfortunate comrades drifting 
toward the breakers. It may be they had lost 
sight of them before they struck, or they may 
have even witnessed the dreadful catastrophe. 
At any rate, they felt that they were safe them- 
selves when the threatening headland was 
weathered. When the storm ceased they were 
grateful for deliverance from the perils which 
had surrounded them, while hope revived that 
they would yet reach the port they sought. 
They counted the days to elapse, and began to 
imagine the scenes of welcome which awaited 
them. 

But that hope was only revived to be more 
cruelly blighted. They now learnt that they 
were victims of an infamous treachery, and we 
are to follow them, not to the Holy Land, but 
to slavery among the Saracens. We learn, to 
our dismay, from the returned priest, that Hugo 
Ferreus and William Porcus, the kind and dis- 
interested merchants of Marseilles, were simply 
slave-dealers, and that they had contracted to sell 
these confiding children to the Mohammedans, 
to whom such a consignment would be of rare 
value, to minister to their luxury. Thus was 



194 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA 

explained the remarkable readiness of these 
men to furnish vessels gratuitously, and the 
hypocrisy of professing to do it all causa Dei 
absque pretio exposed, but, alas, when too late ! 
How the victims learned their betrayal, we 
do not know. It may have been when Saracen 
vessels came in sight, and, surrounding them, 
separated the ships, making the sailors steer as 
they ordered ; or it may be that they were re- 
moved from the vessels of Marseilles and car- 
ried to those of the enemy, on which they were 
to be conveyed whither their captors chose. 
Whatever was the event which revealed the 
treachery of the merchants, never has the sea 
beheld a sadder moment than when these 
thousands of children became aware that they 
were slaves to the Mohammedans. For all 
knew what that lot implied. In every village 
of Europe had some escaped or liberated cap- 
tive told the story of his slavery, and, by addi- 
tions of his own to facts which, unimproved, 
were terrible enough, made that fate proverbi- 
ally horrible. We can therefore easily picture 
the feelings of the young pilgrims when they 
discovered that in that bondage, the description 
of which had always made them shudder, they 
were to pass their lives. They looked around 
upon the sea, but found none to help. The 



THE CAPTIVES OF BUJEIAH 1 95 

limitless expanse told them that they were com- 
pletely at the mercy of that race whom they 
had learned to hate and fear from earliest in- 
fancy. During their lamentations they were 
separated, and while part were carried towards 
Alexandria, the rest were conveyed to Bujeiah 
by their captors. Following these we soon 
reach this harbor, and behold the final destina- 
tion of this fragment of the hosts which we saw 
depart from Vendome. 

Very beautiful was the view presented as one 
entered the bay of Bujeiah in 1212. The city 
covered the flank of the Gouraya, built on ter- 
races, where dark and luxuriant verdure almost 
hid the houses, and seemed to try to conceal 
also the high and slender minarets, while the 
blue sky and scented breezes told of a volup- 
tuous climate. The fields and valleys around 
were assiduously cultivated, and revealed a 
teeming and prosperous population, which was 
also proved hy the masts of many vessels riding 
safely at anchor. There was no scene so fair 
from the Pillars of Hercules to the River of 
Egypt, although now few know that it ever ex- 
isted. But to the children, these beauties had 
no power to charm. They knew that before 
them was a life of labor in the service of those 
whom they had been taught to despise, and for 



196 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA 

whose extermination they had been taught to 
pray. Among scenes so fair, and landscapes 
so lovely, they were to be slaves in a hopeless 
slavery. 

The vessels came to, the sails were furled, 
the anchors dropped, and the voyage, begun in 
Marseilles, was at length ended. But how dif- 
ferently from their hopes ! "Was it for this," 
said they, " that we have taken the Cross and 
enlisted in the army of Christ } Is it thus the 
soldiers of the holy cause are rewarded } Has 
God's arm been shortened that it cannot save .-* " 

They were taken ashore and dispersed, as they 
who bought them wished, and then their servi- 
tude began ! To their respective homes we 
cannot follow them. Scattered over the neigh- 
boring territory and throughout the city, they 
found their lot eased or hardened by cruel or 
kinder masters, or according to the nature of 
the work allotted to them. And so they en- 
tered upon their menial tasks, while the friends 
whom they had left in distant France supposed 
they were reaping glory in rescuing the Sepul- 
chre and restoring the fallen kingdom of Jerusa- 
lem. They soon saw how vain it was for them 
to look for rescue or ransom. They felt that 
the tidings of their fate had not reached their 
kindred, and that long since they had been 



THE CAPTIVES OF BUJEIAH 1 97 

given up as dead. How did they wish that word 
could be sent to the distant dear ones, that their 
condition might at least be known, if it could 
not be changed ! But the winds would bear 
no message, nor did the waves, as they broke, 
bring any news from the far-off shore whence 
they had rolled, regardless whether Christian or 
heathen owned the coast whereon they dashed. 
In course of time the children grew up to man- 
hood, and age crept over them, finding them 
still slaves. Now and then they probably met 
with other captives taken in the wars or on 
the sea, and from them heard of their homes. 
They learnt of the Crusades undertaken since 
their departure, of the successes achieved and 
of the failures experienced, and then the old 
men wept at their tasks, as they thought how 
much more enviable it would have been to have 
perished in some hour of victory on the holy 
soil of Palestine. 

One by one the captives died, some by dis- 
ease, some by cruelty ; others pined away in old 
age. At length all had dropped their weary 
burdens, and their toils and sorrows ended, the 
betrayed Crusaders slept the sleep which liber- 
ates from the oppressor's yoke, and rested in 
the land where the voice of the taskmaster is 
not heard. 



198 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA 

They all died in slavery. Not one of the 
many hundreds ever saw Europe again. ^ 

One hundred years later, this same Bujeiah 
was the scene of the martyrdom of one whose 
labors and death have invested the place with 
interest as great as that associated with the 
memory of these children. 

Raymond Lully spent a large part of his life 
in this city, preaching among enemies and in 
fearlessness of peril the Gospel of Christ. This 
man, one of the most remarkable of the Middle 
Ages, will forever stand in the front rank of the 
army of missionaries ; for truly like the Master 
was he who could, in the midst of the Crusades, 
proclaim everywhere, "The Holy Land can be 
won in no other way than as thou, O Lord Jesus 
Christ, and thy Apostles, won it, — by love, by 
prayers, by shedding of tears and of blood.'* 
And it was here, in this scene of the young Cru- 
saders' servitude, that he was stoned to death 
by the Mohammedans in 13 14. 

Bujeiah has long since fallen. Its natural 
beauties are unchanged. The foliage is as 
green, the fruits as luscious, the sky as blue, as 
when the betrayed little ones labored there and 
pined. But a few broken columns and illegible 
inscriptions are all that remain of the once 
proud edifices of a great and luxurious city. 
1 Albericus ; Hecker. 



ALEXANDRIA AND BAGDAD 199 

It is now in the possession of the French, and 
people from the land of the children bear rule 
where the children were captives. But few of 
those who have made it their home for pur- 
poses of business think that, with the soil they 
tread, there is mingled the dust of these youths 
of their own fair France, who died there six 
centuries ago. 



Alexandria and Bagdad 

Having seen the fate of the children on the 
vessels which were taken to Bujeiah, we turn 
to follow those from whom they were separated. 
They were also destined never to see their 
homes again. The port to which they were 
to be taken was Alexandria, nearly fifteen hun- 
dred miles distant from San Pietro. Long and 
tedious was the voyage, giving them painfully 
ample time to realize their condition, and medi- 
tate on the future before them. Suffering in 
body and in mind, they sailed along the inhos- 
pitable coast of Africa, until at length they saw 
a faint line of sand hills, in front of which rose 
the two solitary columns, Cleopatra's Needle 
and Pompey's Pillar, which then, as now, formed 
the landmarks for the mariner on that monoto- 



200 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA 

nous shore, and indicated the site of Alexan- 
dria. This once great city was at this time 
sunk to the lowest point that it reached be- 
tween its grandeur in ancient times and its 
revival in modern days. It had gradually de- 
clined after the fall of the Roman Empire, but 
the conquest by the Saracens in the tenth cen- 
tury and the building of Cairo completed its 
humiliation. In 12 12 it was a mere port of 
the latter city, containing a few hovels, where 
a scanty and miserable population dwelt, among 
noble ruins which told of the ages when it had 
rivaled Rome in size, and eclipsed it in luxury 
and wealth. The superior beauty of its situa- 
tion, as well as the residence of the Sultan, 
made Cairo rise at the cost of the older city, 
so that soon it seemed that the site of the cap- 
ital of the Ptolemies, and the abode of Mark 
and of Cyril, was to be tenantless, and that 
desolation was to reign in it as supreme as it 
had before the conqueror of Darius ordered its 
construction, to perpetuate his name and con- 
stitute his sepulchral monument. 

Past the ruins of the fallen Pharos the chil- 
dren were carried into the deserted harbor, and 
perhaps to some broken column on the Hepta- 
stadium their captors made fast the ships. 

When landed, they were sold and dispersed. 



ALEXANDRIA AND BAGDAD 201 

Bitter were the tears, heart-rending the partings, 
as their purchasers tore them from each other, 
and they bade farewell with that intensity 
which they feel who never expect to meet again 
on earth. 

A great many of the children were bought 
on the spot by the Governor of Alexandria, 
Maschemuth, and were destined to lead a mis- 
erable life in cultivating his lands and in me- 
nial services about his dwelling, for he is said 
to have been a cruel master. 

The ecclesiastics were more fortunate who 
had accompanied the little Crusaders, whether 
with the good intention of caring for and ad- 
vising them, or, as was more probable, because 
carried away by the prevailing excitement. 
Here, for the first time, we learn how consid- 
erable was their number. We are told that the 
Sultan of Egypt, or the Caliph,^ as he is errone- 
ously called by chroniclers, *' bought four hun- 
dred clerks, among whom were eighty priests." 
This Sultan was Malek Kamel, son of the 
usurper Malek Adel, better known as the 
famous Saphadin, who was still alive, but had 
abdicated and divided his vast empire among 
his sons, with whom he lived. One chronicler 
tells us that this Malek Adel was the son of the 
1 Albericus. 



202 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA 

great Saladin, and that he had studied twenty- 
three years in Paris, during which time he had 
mastered all the languages of Europe, and that 
even on his throne he still wore his university 
robe, while he had ceased to offer, as Moham- 
medans were believed to do, camel's flesh in 
sacrifice. The whole story is probably a fic- 
tion ; for, instead of his being the son of Sala- 
din, his father had dethroned and killed Sala- 
din's son, Al Aziz. As regards his studying 
in Paris, the relations existing between the 
adherents of the two religions would have 
prevented it, if his father had been capable 
of permitting so unique an occurrence. 

Thus, while we cannot believe this true, 
although some have not thought it impossi- 
ble, nevertheless his conduct in regard to the 
ecclesiastics whom he purchased of the slave- 
dealers shows us remarkable traits of character 
for one circumstanced as he was. His selec- 
tion was one which awakens our surprise, as 
does his treatment of them afterwards. He 
took them to Cairo, and kept them in a merely 
nominal slavery in that beautiful and prosper- 
ous city. They dwelt by themselves in his 
palace, and their only duties were teaching 
him, and whom else he chose, the letters of 
Europe. Their yoke was as easy as a yoke 



ALEXANDRIA AND BAGDAD 203 

could ever be, and in learned pursuits they 
passed their time, possessing all they wished, 
save their liberty. 

In another direction are we taken, as we fol- 
low the fate of the other children besides those 
bought by the Caliph and Maschemuth. They 
fell into the hands of masters who, to sell them 
the better, prepared to take them to far distant 
Bagdad. Their route lay across the Delta of 
the Nile, then over the weary desert to Pales- 
tine, and into that Holy Land where they had 
hoped to march as conquerors, they were 
brought as captives. With what emotions did 
they behold the walls of the sacred city, for 
whose conquest they had enlisted, but which 
now was only a stopping-place on the path to 
bondage ! Theirs was not the privilege to 
worship by a liberated Sepulchre. They may 
have seen the dome which covered it, from the 
khan where their captors kept them, only to 
know it was inaccessible, and defiled by the 
custody of heathen. Thus sadly was fulfilled 
the hope they had often expressed, as on their 
march to Marseilles they had sung — " Our 
feet shall stand within thy walls, O Jerusa- 
lem ! " 

But their owners hurried them away. Past 
Nazareth, and Hattin, the scene of the disas- 



204 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA 

trous defeat of the Crusaders, past the dark 
waters of Galilee, and over the mountains, they 
were dragged towards Damascus. The beauty 
which here enchants the traveler had no 
power to please them, and it was without the 
regret he feels that they saw its minarets and 
domes and lovely foliage disappear, when, leav- 
ing it, they penetrated the desert on their east- 
ward journey. Then ensued that dreadful 
march across the wide waste which stretches, 
unrelieved, from Syria to Mesopotamia. Once 
was the monotony of sand broken, as they 
tarried to encamp among the solitary ruins of 
Palmyra, where the moon then, as to-day, 
looked down on no sleepers save the Bedouins 
or the caravans, that make its deserted streets 
their resting-place. But these ruins also disap- 
peared behind the desert horizon, and one day, 
as at sea, was like another, sad, long, and un- 
relieved, until, after several weeks, the weary 
camels gladly drank of the waters of the Eu- 
phrates. They were transported down the 
river for a few days, and then, leaving it and 
crossing the intervening plains, they reached 
the city they sought, on the banks of the 
Tigris. Here their journeyings were ended. 
For this had they assumed the Cross a few 
short months ago ! This was the destination 



ALEXANDRIA AND BAGDAD 20$ 

where the pilgrimage, begun by the Loire or 
the Seine, was to terminate ! Since the year, 
now nearly closed, had commenced, how much 
had they seen ! How far had they traveled ! 
How much had they endured ! It must have 
seemed, in view of the rapidity with which the 
events had succeeded each other, as a horrid 
dream since, yesterday as it were, they had 
parted from their kindred in far distant France. 

They were now dispersed, as each purchaser 
took to his home those whom he selected. Ac* 
cording to the character of the various masters 
was the hardship of their servitude. The city 
was, as Cairo, extremely luxurious and beauti- 
ful, being the theme of poets for its splendor. 
Here resided the great chief of the Moslems, 
the Caliph, and the wealth of many lands was 
made to minister to their common capital. But 
though the children found here refinement and 
comfort which France or Europe could not 
equal, they thought wistfully of their ruder 
homes, far away to the westward, and, during 
the long years of bondage, they longed to see 
once again their native villages and their be- 
loved friends. 

There is some definite light cast on the lot 
of a few, which brings us to the last scene, and 
it is a scene of martyrdom. Not long after the 



206 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA 

arrival of these captives, there was held a meet- 
ing of Saracen princes in Bagdad.^ The object 
of it is not told us. It was probably for con- 
sultation, in view of the distracted state of the 
Mohammedan world ; for, at the time, there 
were many dissensions among the turbulent 
and aspiring sultans of the different provinces, 
and the once compact empire was divided, and 
apparently in danger of self-destruction. What- 
ever was the reason for this gathering, the 
princes agreed in one thing, — enmity to the 
Christians ; and when they learned of the pres- 
ence of the children who had vainly enlisted 
as Crusaders, they considered it becoming the 
capital of "the chief of all the faithful," and 
a proper object for so august an assembly, to 
endeavor to convert these young unbelievers. 
Into their presence some of the children were 
brought. Every art was used to win them. 
Entreaty, argument, and threats were employed 
to lead them to adopt the creed of the Prophet. 
They were promised the sensual delights of the 
believers, and all the comforts that that city 
could provide, if they would yield ; while, on 
the other hand, death by torture and agony 
would be the result of obstinacy. But tempta- 

1 Albericus says this was in the same year with their de- 
parture. 



ALEXANDRIA AND BAGDAD 20/ 

tions could not move them ; threats could not 
intimidate them. Though before such power- 
ful sovereigns, they remained steadfast, and 
children of tender age baffled all the wiles of 
these rulers of Asia. When their determina- 
tion was evident, some were ordered to be put 
to death, in the expectation that the spectacle 
might affect the rest ; but the survivors were 
still firm, and the enraged Saracens commanded 
that others should be executed, until their ven- 
geance was gratified, or until they judged it 
wiser to let the rest live, in the hope that time 
might do what threats could not effect. Before 
their thirst for blood was satisfied, eighteen 
were put to death, by the bowstring or by 
drowning. 

Where is there a scene in history more touch- 
ing than the martyrdom of these eighteen little 
ones, whom all the power and state of the Caliph 
and his princes could neither tempt nor dis- 
may "i How noble a termination of their Cru- 
sade ! How much more illustrious is their 
memory for this faithfulness, than any victories 
in battle or subjugation of enemies could have 
rendered it ! 

These children, who died rather than gain a 
life of ease by denying their Lord, remind us 
of others, who on the banks of the same river, in 



208 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA 

days long previous, had manifested equal firm- 
ness. By that Tigris had the captive children 
of Israel been enslaved, and their tears had 
mingled with the waters which now were tur- 
gid with the Crusaders' blood. There did the 
latter, like their predecessors, not forget Jeru- 
salem, neither did they cease to cling to their 
faith at the cost of their ''chief joy." Like 
them did the tortured and betrayed little ones 
''speak of the Lord's testimonies even before 
princes, and were not ashamed ; " and with the 
remains of those who could not for their sor- 
rows "sing the Lord's song in a strange land," 
lie mingled the now indistinguishable dust of 
those who only dared in concealment to pray 
the prayers they had learnt in their unforgotten 
homes beyond the desert and beyond the sea. 
As the sufferings of the former exiles expiated 
many sins which caused God to let the Assyri- 
ans " carry them away captive," thus does the 
constancy of these whose fate we have seen 
make us forget their folly, and it atones for 
their disobedience to the parents whose wis- 
dom they now confessed in tears. Such deaths 
cover, to human eyes, the imperfections and 
spots in the lives of those who meet them. 

Strange is it that Bujeiah and Bagdad are 
each rendered memorable by two separate testi- 
monies to God's truth in bondage and death ! 



STORY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN 209 

VI 

Conclusion of the Story of the French Children 

The martyrdom of the eighteen children in 
Bagdad occurred, as was stated, in the same 
year in which they had left their homes. It 
must have been in the ensuing winter. 

Concerning the fate of the rest who were 
taken to that distant region, we know no more. 
That single scene of bloodshed and cruelty 
alone has been recorded. They lived and la- 
bored, grew old and died, by the banks of the 
Tigris and of the Euphrates, waiting in vain for 
the day of liberation ; hearing, it may be, as 
did those in Bujeiah, of the disasters or of the 
successes of the Christian Crusaders, but feel- 
ing that no victory could bring relief to them. 

As years passed away hopes grew feebler, 
and at last they resigned themselves to the 
sad belief that they were forgotten, or deemed 
by their friends to have perished. In Egypt, 
we saw that there were a number who dwelt 
in Cairo, and many in Alexandria. Those in 
the former city continued in their easy slavery, 
and found in their companionship some conso- 
lation for their exile. The priest who returned 
was one of these. The Sultan had liberated 
him, but we do not know why. Whatever was 



2IO TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA 

the reason, it was an act of precious moment 
to those in Europe who first heard from him 
of the fate of the ships which had departed 
from Marseilles eighteen years before, and of 
the thousands they had carried. He said that, 
after these intervening years, the ecclesiastics 
in Cairo were still as kindly treated, and had, 
as their only occupation, literary pursuits. 

It was stated that Maschemuth, Governor of 
Alexandria, had purchased a large number of 
the children on their arrival. The returned 
priest said that there were still living, at the 
time of his release, seven hundred of these, 
now, of course, having attained the age of man- 
hood. 

One fact related by this priest concerning 
the children ends his story. He said that he 
had never heard of a single one of the Cru- 
saders, old or young, who had abandoned the 
faith of their home and of their infancy. 
There may have been others exposed to perse- 
cution than those in Bagdad ; many were sub- 
ject to countless strong temptations to adopt 
the easy, sensuous faith of their masters, but 
they resisted threats and wiles unto the end. 
It is true that the sphere of knowledge of this 
priest was but partial, yet those for whom he 
could speak positively were as much liable to 



STORY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN 211 

apostasy as any, and consequently, when he 
says that he never heard that one abandoned 
Christianity, it is enough to show that this 
faithfulness was general. The earnest were 
too pious to become heathen. They who had 
undertaken the Crusade for other motives were 
led by their perils to find their comfort in the 
faith they had once neglected. 

The effect of the promulgation of these 
tidings by the priest can be more easily imag- 
ined than described. It revived interest in a 
theme which had become almost forgotten. 

Many a question did he have to answer, ad- 
dressed by anxious parents, and few were the 
cases where he could give to the bereaved the 
welcome reply that their " Joseph " was *' still 
alive and in Egypt." 

Of course, with their interest in the news, 
the people also expressed their indignation at 
the conduct of the merchants, Porcus and 
Ferreus. But, as we shall see, they were not 
yet to receive their due reward. 

Efforts may have been made to secure the 
liberation of the Crusaders that still lived, but 
in vain, for none ever returned. They lingered 
on in servitude in their various places of abode 
through passing years. They may have heard 
of the violent and many political changes of the 



212 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA 

Mohammedan world, but these did not help 
them ; they only changed their masters. Those 
who lived until twenty years after the priest's 
return, when Saint Louis waged his war in 
Egypt, may have thought that this would end 
in their deliverance. But it was in vain that 
they looked to this. How anxiously must they 
have awaited the issue of the conflicts between 
their brethren and their oppressors ! 

When this Crusade was ended, in 1250, the 
last chance had vanished, for nothing occurred 
afterwards which could help them, or that 
might free them. 

And so, without hope, the scattered captives 
worked at their tasks in the various regions 
whither they had been carried, forgetting the 
tongue of their infancy, but not forgetting its 
scenes, experiencing the vicissitudes which re- 
sulted from the caprices of their masters, until 
all was over. The last straggler in the rear of 
the dissolving band escaped from slavery by 
the great gateway to liberty, and at length the 
morning dawned when the muezzin's cry from 
airy tower, calling the faithful to prayer, was 
heard no longer by any of those whose for- 
tunes we have followed to their mournful 
close. 

Was ever journey sad as that one .'* We have 



STORY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN 213 

seen an army which left Vendome, so full of 
hope under their youthful leader, betrayed, 
scattered, and enslaved. They had indeed 
found a way through the sea, but the price of 
their passage was their life and their freedom. 
Some of them reached Jerusalem, but they 
walked its streets as captives, and looked upon 
Olivet in chains. 



CHAPTER IX 

THE FATE OF THE LEADERS AND OF THE 
BETRAYERS 

Our story is incomplete until we gather up 
the hints that are preserved regarding the three 
youths who led the children that, as we have 
seen, "from the towns and cities of all coun- 
tries ran with eager steps to the parts beyond 
the sea," and concerning those who betrayed 
them so basely. 

As regards Stephen, Roger de Wendover 
says that "an infinite number followed the 
aforesaid master to the Mediterranean," but 
rather shows his ignorance of the details of the 
transaction and of the state of affairs in Pales- 
tine, by adding, " crossing which, they went on 
their way, singing in orderly procession and in 
troops." We cannot feel certain from so gen- 
eral a statement that Stephen retained his 
influence until they reached Marseilles, and yet 
it is not improbable. The journey was not long, 
though tedious while it lasted, and with him 



THE FATE OF THE LEADERS 21 5 

were many others who were interested in con- 
tinuing his authority from reasons of a selfish 
character. He may have really led them into 
the city they sought. After that we know no 
more about him. We cannot tell whether or not 
he embarked on the ships of the merchants, 
and shared the fate of his victims in shipwreck 
or slavery. It may be that he returned to 
Cloyes, and there passed succeeding years in 
tending the sheep he had left to conduct an 
army, and that, in quiet hours on the hillsides 
about his home, he mused in after days on that 
summer dream of glory. 

Concerning Nicholas we know that he was 
the leader of his band when they entered 
Genoa, for two eye-witnesses record the fact.^ 
But this is the last that we hear of him. 

Whether he remained there is not stated. It 
may be that he was of those who concluded to 
make there their home, or that he persevered 
to Rome. That he did not return to Cologne 
seems apparent from one fact which is re- 
corded. It is said that when the people of 
that city learned the fate of the children and 
the story of their sufferings, they revenged the 
little ones by hanging his father.^ This would 
lead us to infer that they could not lay hold of 

1 Caffari and Sicardi. 2 Qesta Trevirorum. 



2l6 THE FATE OF THE LEADERS 

Nicholas, or they would have visited their in- 
dignation also upon him, for they would have 
sooner identified him with the deceivers than 
with the deceived. It also shows that his 
father played a prominent part in originating 
the Crusade, and aimed at his own advantage. 

His colleague is not spoken of in the chroni- 
cles by name. We only are told that the other 
army had a leader. Who he was, or what be- 
came of him, cannot now be discovered. 

One other leader to whom we referred has 
been more fortunate in the extent to which his 
fame has been preserved. We saw that in 
northern France, a man of mature years, Jacob 
of Hungary, preached the Crusade of Stephen, 
and led many children to Vendome. He is not 
mentioned again in connection with the move- 
ment. We do not know if he accompanied the 
band to Marseilles, or left it when on the way 
thither. 

But he comes forward again in history, and 
as a prominent actor in a transaction of a na- 
ture similar to this of which we are treating. 

Seasons passed away, and the sad year of 
1250 came, when the vast army of Saint Louis 
had been dispersed on the shores of the Medi- 
terranean, and the king himself made prisoner. 
A general feeling of despondency spread over 



AND OF THE BETRAYERS 21/ 

France, and the people were broken-hearted by 
the captivity of their beloved sovereign. Then, 
in some way which cannot be traced, a feeling 
arose that the cause of the Crusades was to be 
made victorious by means of the shepherds, and 
it spread as rapidly as had done the idea in 1212 
that the children were to render it triumphant. 
Here Jacob of Hungary comes to the surface 
again. He was now an old man, with a long, 
white beard and the aspect of a prophet, and 
had spent the intervening years as a shepherd. 
He preached in all the towns of France and 
Flanders that he v/as commissioned by God to 
lead an army of peasants to rescue the Holy 
Land and liberate the king. Soon he found 
himself at the head of more than a hundred 
thousand enthusiastic " Pastors," as they called 
themselves, and they started to seek the way 
to Palestine. But they soon found that they 
might use their power more advantageously to 
themselves nearer home, and they declaimed no 
longer against the Saracens, but against the 
Church, the rulers, and the rich. Pillaging and 
robbing as they went, they resolved to assemble 
at Bourges, where Jacob was to perform mira- 
cles, and where he was to rule as a king. But 
by this time the people were aroused, and 
united to oppose the rabble. They met them at 



21 8 THE FATE OF THE LEADERS 

Villeneuve, and, in a sanguinary battle, routed 
the Pastors beyond all possibility of reassem- 
bling. Jacob of Hungary was killed by a sol- 
dier in the conflict, who with his axe finished 
the old man's career by cutting off his head. 
So terminated the strange story of this twice 
successful deceiver.^ 

If our sympathies were awakened by the sad 
fate which befell the children who formed the 
French army in this strange Crusade, our in- 
dignation must have been equally aroused at 
the peculiarly cruel treachery of the merchants, 
who played upon their ignorance and their 
confidence in order to betray them. 

It is with satisfaction that we learn that they 
did not go unpunished, but that they met with 
justice, although for another crime. 

Whether they fled from Marseilles in order 
to escape the vengeance which they dreaded, 
or left that city for other reasons, we are not 
told, but they appear again upon another field 
of action, and in the prosecution of an under- 
taking similar to this one in which we have 
seen them, but, happily, not with equal suc- 
cess. 

Frederick II., Emperor of Germany, was also 
King of Sicily. This beautiful and fertile island 
1 Roger de Wendover and Roger Bacon. 



AND OF THE BETRAYERS 219 

had been wrested from the Saracens by Guis- 
card in 1090, but the latter never ceased to de- 
sire to regain it, or to make frequent desperate 
attempts to that end. These efforts continued 
up to the date of which we are speaking. At 
the time, the Mohammedans had a slight foot- 
hold upon the island, when they sought by a 
new plan to secure it altogether. That was to 
capture the emperor. The opportunity to do 
this was afforded by the frequent visits which 
he made to this part of his dominions, to attend 
to its wants and to promote that administration 
of justice for which his reign was conspicuous. 
The Emir Mirabel, ruler of the Saracens in 
Sicily, conceived this plan, and found ready 
agents in the merchants, Porcus and Ferreus, 
who probably had been in relation with him in 
their old trade of selling Christians into slavery. 
The agreement was made that they should 
seek to capture Frederick alive, or, if this could 
not be accomplished, to assassinate him. But, 
carefully as they laid their schemes, the vigi- 
lance of the emperor was too great for them. 
The plot was discovered, and Mirabel, with his 
two sons and the merchants, were made prison- 
ers. In such a case punishment was summary 
and severe. The five, though the heathen were 
far less guilty than their treacherous assistants, 



220 THE FATE OF THE LEADERS 

were all hung upon one gallows, and we leave 
them hanging there, not sorry that the martyrs 
of San Pietro, Bujeiah, Alexandria, and Bagdad 
were avenged.^ 

We have now traced, from its commence- 
ment to its sad termination, a movement which 
is unique in the varied history of the world, and 
the wildest delusion of an age of delusions.^ 

Sixty thousand families, it is estimated, were 
by it saddened or bereaved, and, in its mad 
current, nearly a hundred thousand children 
were carried away to hardships or to death. 
Of this number at least a third never saw 
again the homes whence the songs and banners 
had lured them. They died by the banks of 
every stream, and in every valley along the 
routes of the three armies ; some while seek- 
ing the distant sea, others while wearily seeking 
their homes. Others still, as we have seen, 
sailed from Pisa, Brindisi, and Marseilles to die 
in shipwreck and in slavery. 

And most extraordinary is the briefness of 
the space of time within which it was all com- 
prehended. Eight short months comprised it, 
from the call of Stephen among his flocks by 
Cloyes, to the scene of martyrdom in distant 
1 Albericus. 2 gee Appendix A. 



AND OF THE BETRAYERS 221 

Bagdad. Within this short period the great 
throb of child-hfe rose and ceased, its work 
complete. We can scarcely believe that all 
transpired so rapidly, but this rests upon dis- 
tinct assertions of the authorities. 

It was stated that the cruel delusion was the 
work of the emissaries of Rome, who, despair- 
ing of arousing Europe to a new interest in the 
Crusades, thought such a movement, for which 
they found the children ready, owing to the 
arts and appeals to which their elders were ac- 
customed, would conduce to the result which 
they sought to effect. They succeeded prob- 
ably better than they had intended, and awoke 
a spirit which they could not, if they would, 
suppress. For the deception the Pope had no 
words of rebuke, for its progress no syllables of 
prohibition, for the victims no tears of sympa- 
thy. He was not a man to be influenced by 
sentiments of a tender nature, and he saw in 
this an auxiliary to his great desire. We no- 
ticed the cruelty with which he decreed that 
the children must renew the attempt to rescue 
Palestine when older, and redeem the vows 
which they had taken. In keeping with this 
conduct was a remark which has been pre- 
served, uttered by him when endeavoring to 
raise a new crusade : " These boys shame us, 



222 THE FATE OF THE LEADERS 

for, while they rush to the recovery of the Holy 
Land, we sleep." ^ It resulted then, as we saw, 
that this fatal and delusive undertaking fur- 
nished an argument wherewith to appeal to the 
adults. And this man's assumed name was 
Innocent. His original name was Lothario, 
Count of Segno. 

One more consideration occurs to us, which 
is the illustration which this strange Crusade 
affords us of the unsettled state of Europe in 
these times. We are apt to rise from perusal 
of mediaeval history with a strong yet vague 
idea of disorder and unrest, lawlessness and 
anarchy. But the vast difference between so- 
ciety now and what it was then is manifested 
in new vividness, when we think what the con- 
dition of affairs must have been, in order that 
it could have been possible for such an affair 
as this to occur, or that which soon followed 
the ravages of the Pastors. Demoralization so 
complete makes one grateful that his lot has 
been cast in these latter days, whose turmoils 
and disorders seem as tranquillity itself com- 
pared with the life which our ancestors led. 
They were romantic days, as they are called, 
but the pen of the novehst or poet has endued 
them with a halo which would surprise those 

1 Albert Stadensis quotes the Pope's language. 



AND OF THE BETRAYERS 223 

who lived in them, and found them to be days 
of want, of trouble, and of struggle. They 
were sadly commonplace to the generations 
who had to endure them. 

But we now must turn to the last part of our 
task, the description of the monument of the 
shipwrecked children, which is also the sole 
relic of the entire transaction. 



CHAPTER X 

ECCLESIA NOVORUM INNOCENTIUM 



The Church 

When the sad tidings of the fate of the chil- 
dren that left Marseilles became known, as we 
have seen, by the return of the liberated priest 
eighteen years later, the reigning Pope, Greg- 
ory IX., resolved to erect a tribute to the 
memory of those who were victims of the am- 
bition or the zeal of his predecessor. There 
was one place eminently appropriate for such a 
structure, — the Island of San Pietro, where it 
would serve to recall the event in the scene of 
one of its most touching episodes, and which 
was, moreover, the only place of the many 
where they had met their deaths which was 
not inaccessible to Christians. 

Many of the bodies had been washed ashore 
after that fatal storm, and some kind hands 
had gathered and buried them on the lonely 
island. During the intervening years they had 



THE CHURCH 22$ 

lain there, but they were now to have a more 
appropriate resting-place. The Pope caused a 
church to be built, and the remains of the little 
ones were placed within it. It was to be both 
their memorial and their shrine. With touch- 
ing and beautiful reference to the murdered 
children of Bethlehem, this monument over the 
remains of youths who died as they thought 
in Christ's cause was called Ecclesia Novo- 
RUM Innocentium, — the Church of the New 
Innocents. Rarely has a name been given to a 
church more appropriate, or more replete with 
suggestiveness. 

In order that services might be maintained 
in so sacred a spot, and that the structure 
might be cared for where there was no popu- 
lation to attend to it, the Pope endowed the 
church sufficiently to support twelve prebends, 
who were to form the only inhabitants of the 
isle, and to continue the sounds of prayer and 
praise from day to day and from year to year. 

But they were not destined to be as lonely 
as they may have anticipated. In an age of 
pilgrimages and of holy places a spot like this 
would not remain unvisited. It soon became a 
favorite shrine, and from the islands around 
crowds came to utter eager prayers, or to fulfill 
the vows of superstition. The deep waters bore 



226 ECCLESIA NOVORUM INNOCENTIUM 

on their bosom many a boat, laden with pil- 
grims, who, as they approached the shore, 
heard the music of the services, that was wafted 
towards them by the breeze. It became the 
noted place of that part of the Mediterranean, 
and was looked upon with reverence as a " Holy 
Isle," where the wonderful children slept, whose 
intercession was most precious in view of their 
virtues and their martyrdom. 

Thus did years pass away, and generation 
after generation came to worship where their 
ancestors had prayed. Three centuries after 
its erection we hear of the church again. 
Alberic tells us that it was then as much fre- 
quented as ever, and that the story of the chil- 
dren was listened to with undiminished inter- 
est. This interest was also increased by the 
priests, in that they showed to the pilgrims the 
bodies of the shipwrecked Crusaders, still en- 
tire and undecayed, which was a perpetual mir- 
acle to encourage the faithful in their prayers, 
and stimulate their liberality. This succeeded, 
for it was comparatively a small tax upon the 
credulity of the happy mortals who lived in the 
regretted ages when all was believed, and no 
questions were asked. 

After this glimpse which Alberic gives us, 
we lose sight of the church, and it is no more 



THE CHURCH 22/ 

mentioned in historic records. How long a 
time priests and pilgrims continued to pray 
there we know not. But, probably before 
many years, various causes led to its being de- 
serted. As the turmoils and excitements of 
the succeeding ages came on, or as other 
shrines rose into favor, the interest in the sep- 
ulchre of the children, whose story was now 
so old, naturally waned, and the number of 
the visitors to the island decreased. When the 
prebends found their occupation gone, and the 
offerings scanty and rare, they desisted from 
their thankless duties and departed. On some 
day that is unrecorded, the last mass was sung, 
the last taper extinguished, and the lonely 
priests sought the boat that was to bear them 
away, leaving to silence and desertion the scene 
of three centuries of pilgrimage and prayer. 

When thus abandoned and uncared for, the 
church soon became dilapidated. In that ex- 
posed situation the storms of winter told with 
annually increasing effect, and the work of ruin 
made rapid progress. The decayed and beaten 
roof gave way at length, and left the edifice 
open to the sunlight and the rain. Vines 
clambered up the crumbling walls, and waved 
their branches in the open windows, while 
growing mosses beautified the wreck. Weeds 



228 ECCLESIA NOVORUM INNOCENTIUM 

choked up the once thronged portal, and oblit- 
erated the long-trodden pathway, while in the 
silent grass-grown aisle and around the falling 
altar wild animals played undisturbed. 

Thus were the children left to slumber on 
in their neglected and deserted tomb ; but the 
little birds that found there a nest and a home 
sang over them sweeter, purer requiems than 
ever had been chanted by forgotten priests. 

II 

The Ruin 

The island that had again become deserted 
and silent remained so until five hundred 
years after the shipwreck of the children, but 
we do not know how long after the abandon- 
ment of their shrine, when, for the first time 
in its history, it became peopled, and its scanty 
fields received cultivation. 

In 1737, a party of Christian captives held 
in slavery in Tabarca, on the coast of Africa, 
succeeded in effecting their escape, under 
the leadership of one Tagliafico, whom they 
selected as their chief. Sailing northwards, 
across the sea, they reached San Pietro, and re- 
solved to colonize it. Being encouraged by the 
King of Sardinia, the colony grew rapidly in 



THE RUIN 229 

numbers and wealth, profiting by the valua- 
ble fisheries in the vicinity, and the precious 
deposits of coral which were not too deep to 
escape the search of the adventurous divers of 
the island. In course of time the popula- 
tion has reached the number of ten thousand, 
who dwell mostly in the little city of Carlo 
Forte, whose white houses may be seen from 
far over the sea, nestled close to the shore, be- 
neath the shadow of the mountains which form 
the northern end of the island. They contain 
a happy, peaceful people, as is shown by the 
fact recorded by a traveler who visited them in 
1828, that there had never been a lawsuit among 
them during the ninety years of their history 
that had elapsed. When the fugitives landed 
in 1737, they found upon the island the remains 
of the Church of the New Innocents, which filled 
them with astonishment, as they thought they 
were the first inhabitants of the isle. Being 
able to find no clue to its origin, they regarded 
it as a thing of mystery, and often talked to 
one another about that desolate edifice which 
they had discovered where, as they supposed, 
before them, man had never dwelt. When 
strangers visited San Pietro, they were shown 
this relic, but no one could conjecture its his- 
tory. In the beginning of this century an 



230 ECCLESIA NOVORUM INNOCENTIUM 

English traveler, wandering among the islands 
of the Mediterranean, reached this one. He 
tells us that the wonder of the people was as 
great as ever, and that they were wont to assert 
that the island had been named after this 
church, by their fathers when they landed. He 
knew no more himself, and seems to indorse 
the story. But the next generation forgot even 
all about the edifice itself ; and, of late years, 
any one who would have asked to be conducted 
to the ruined church would have been told that 
there was no such thing to be found on the 
island, even by those most familiar with its 
surface and its history. So completely has the 
memory of the children perished, that the people 
who dwell on San Pietro know not that their 
monument and their shrine is among them, 
that, close to their homes, are the remains of 
the edifice where for centuries prayers were said 
above their sepulchre, and a spot which has 
been sought by the feet of throngs of pilgrims. 
Within that silent inclosure many a shepherd 
has slept, little dreaming of those young Cru- 
saders who lay buried there; and many chil- 
dren have played in this falling structure, with- 
out suspecting that it was the memorial of a 
touching story of the betrayal and death of 
hundreds like themselves, of a long past age. 



THE RUIN 231 

But let us, in closing, describe this relic 
around which our interest centres.^ It stands 
upon an eminence behind the city of Carlo 
Forte, and overlooks a large part of San Pietro, 
while from it may be seen the rocky and high 
outlines of the island of Sardinia, beyond the 
sparkling waters of the strait. The church was 
originally quadrangular, with a steep, peaked 
roof. In the eastern end was the altar, and 
over it a window, the entrance being "from the 
westward. But the front face has fallen down, 
and leaves but the rear and sides remaining, 
and these latter are crumbling away. There 
are no signs of the roof ; if there was a tower, 
it has disappeared. All is deserted and grass- 
grown within. The stones of which the walls 
are built are of irregular size, and put in place 
without having been carefully dressed, while 
around the ruin the turf is thickly strewn with 
those that have fallen. Near by are two deep 
and ancient wells, which were probably exca- 
vated when the church was built, for the use of 
the priests and the pilgrims, and, not far dis- 
tant, catacombs have been discovered, which 
may have been the resting-places for those 
who died there during the period when the 
sanctity of the spot made it an abode of men, 
between the two epochs of its loneliness. 
1 See Appendix B. 



232 ECCLESIA NOVO RUM INNO GENTIUM 

There it stands, weather-beaten and gray, 
between the mountains and the water, a neg- 
lected monument of a forgotten tragedy ! 
May the hand of time deal gently with it, and 
the strong-armed ivy, clambering over its 
stones, long hold them together in its firm 
grasp ! The sepulchres of Godfrey, of Bald- 
win, of Richard, and of other Crusaders, are 
honored by many a visitor ; but lonely and un- 
frequented is this tomb of those who, having 
entered on the same great cause with more 
unselfish motives, found their deaths in the 
horrors of the storm, — a tomb which recalls all 
of our now finished story of the most touching 
and romantic episode of that struggle which 
convulsed and excited the world during more 
than two hundred years. 

For here our task is ended. We conclude 
the narrative of the event which we have 
sought to rescue from the oblivion into which 
it had fallen, with our gaze resting upon the 
only reinc of it which we possess, the one me- 
morial which has survived the lapse of centu- 
ries. The closing scene is a ruined church, 
looking out over the blue sea, and within its 
crumbling walls the shipwrecked children are 
still sleeping. 



APPENDICES 



APPENDIX A 

This movement has not been entirely unique in 
kind, though it was quite so in degree. 

Two events in subsequent years resembled it. 
The first is recorded by Marten Crusius, in his 
"Annales Suevici," Fol. LVII. Part III. p. 405, 
and also in the chronicle of the Monastery of El- 
wangen. The second is related by John Lindner, 
of Pirna, in his " Excerpta." I quote the narration 
of them in Hecker's " Child Pilgrimages," a rare 
work, translated and issued in England by the 
Sydenham Society. 

" It Q the excitement of the world of children ' ) 
was confined to the city of Erfurt, and '%is very 
transient, but not the less presents all the distinc- 
tive marks of a religious disease, and was more so 
than other pilgrimages, as far at least as has come 
down to posterity. On the 15th of July, 1237, 
there assembled, unknown to their parents, more 
than a thousand children, who left by the Lober 
gate, and wandered, dancing and leaping, by the 



234 APPENDICES 

Steigerwald, to Armstadt. A congress, such as this, 
as if by agreement, resembles an instinctive im- 
pulse, as in animals, when, for instance, storks and 
swallows assemble for their migration ; the same 
phenomenon has doubtless taken place in all child 
pilgrimages ; it was also remarked by eye-witnesses 
of the first of them, in a manner characteristic of the 
Middle Ages. It was not until the next day that the 
parents learned the occurrence, and they fetched 
the children back in carts. No one could say who 
had enticed them away. Many of them are said to 
have continued ill some time after, and, in particu- 
lar, to have suffered from trembling of the limbs ; 
perhaps also from convulsions. The whole affair is 
obscure, and so little an account has been taken 
of it by contemporaries, that the chronicles only 
speak of the fact, and say nothing of its causes. 
The only probable conjecture is that the festivities 
connected with the canonization of St. Elizabeth, 
the Landgravine of Thuringia, had excited, in the 
child world of Erfurt, this itch for devotion, which 
sought to relieve itself by displays of spinal activity, 
for this child pilgrimage is in very near proximity 
to the dancing mania. 

" Still more obscure is a child pilgrimage of 1458, 
of which the motives were clearly religious. It is 
probably, at present, almost impossible to trace the 
chain of ideas which occasioned it ; it is enough 
that it was in honor of the Archangel Michael. 
More than one hundred children, from Hall in Sua^- 



APPENDICES 235 

bia, set out, against the will of their parents, for 
Mont St. Michel, in Normandy. They could not, 
by any means, be restrained ; and if force was em- 
ployed, they fell severely ill, and some even died. 
The mayor, unable to prevent the journey, kindly 
furnished them a guide for the long distance and 
an ass to carry their luggage. They are said to 
have actually reached the then world-renowned ab- 
bey, now, as is well known, a state prison, and to 
have performed their devotions there. We have 
absolutely no other information of them." 

Who that has been at this wonderful St. Michael's 
Mount, near Avranches, can fail to be impressed by 
the scene of these children marching across the 
wide expanse of beach to seek it, where it rises as 
a fretted pyramid, at high tide an inaccessible is- 
land, nearly three miles from the shore. It is of all 
spots in Europe probably the most surrounded by 
curious and vivid associations of a legendary and 
historical nature. It is not now a state prison, 
having been given to the Bishop of Avranches. 



APPENDIX B 

As the discovery of the ruins of this church is 
rather interesting, I have thought it worth relat- 
ing. 

When compiling this book, having discovered 
that such an edifice had been erected, I naturally 



236 APPENDICES 

desired to know if any ruins remained, and sup- 
posed that its loneliness would have tended to its 
preservation. After a long search for some de- 
scription of the island, an account of a visit to San 
Pietro was found in Smythe's " Travels in Sardinia," 
published in London in 1828. To my gratification, 
I found that he said that its present appellation is 
derived from a little old chapel near the town 
(Carlo Forte), the date of which is unknown, it hav- 
ing been found in a ruined state when the colony 
arrived. No other account of this ruin could be 
found, and I therefore took steps to secure a fur- 
ther description of it, presuming it to be the Church 
of the New Innocents, for reasons given below. 

A letter to the polite cure of Carlo Forte brought 
a reply from him that there was no such edifice on 
the island as that which I told him Smythe had 
seen. 

Then, through my father, Mr. J. A. C. Gray, who 
was in Italy, my friend, Mr. Newton Perkins, an art 
student, was persuaded to go to the island. The 
following letter tells his story, and shows the extent 
to which the ruin had become forgotten. He gave 
me further details in other letters and in conversa- 
tions. 

Cagliari, Island of Sardinia, March i8, 1867. 

Rev. Mr. Gray : 

My dear Sir, — I have just returned from a trip to the 
Island of San Pietro, where I have been to look for the chapel 
known to have been erected by Pope Gregory IX. to com- 



APPENDICES 2iy 

memorate the shipwreck of vessels, near that spot, containing 
young Crusaders. I left Leghorn in a steamer, on the evening 
of the 1 2th of March, and after a pleasant sail of thirty-eight 
hours arrived at Cagliari, the largest town in the Island of Sar- 
dinia, being a place of some 28,000 inhabitants. I spent one 
day and night at Cagliari, and while there called on the Eng- 
lish consul. I found him a very agreeable old gentleman, and 
derived some information from him about my present business. 
On the morning of Friday the 1 5th, I started in an open car- 
riage for a ride across the southern portion of the island, to 
the village of Iglesias, a small town on the western coast. 
I had with me an intelligent Sard, who acted as guide. We 
rode all day, stopping occasionally for refreshment at some 
dirty little village or settlement on our route. The houses 
were built of clay-baked brick, held together by straw, the 
ends of which could be clearly seen where the bricks had 
been cut in two. About six in the evening I arrived at Igle- 
sias, and called upon an Englishman, the superintendent of a 
company of miners working in that neighborhood. Through 
the kindness of this superintendent (whose name, I regret 
to say, has slipped my mind) I was provided with letters of 
introduction to several persons, which were of great service. 
On the morning of the i6th March, I started quite early for 
a drive over the mountain to the shore of the western coast. 
After reaching the summit of Mount Sirai, I had a fine view 
of the two islands lying before me. San Pietro is the more 
northern one, quite high and precipitous at the northern ex- 
tremity, and gradually sloping towards the sea at the south- 
ern part. San Antiocho is larger in size, but not so thickly 
populated. In this island excavations are in progress, and 
many valuable relics have been discovered. About nine 
o'clock I arrived at a little fishermen's village, called Porto- 
scuro, but so small and insignificant as not to be noted on any 
map I had seen. I was unfortunate in missing the boat at 
this point, and had to wait several hours for its return. 
About eleven o'clock, however, I started in a sailboat from 



238 APPENDICES 

Portoscuro for San Pietro. An hour's sail brought me to 
Carlo Forte, the only settlement on the Island of San Pietro. 
It is a small town, and, what is quite a rarity in this country, 
the houses look clean, are whitewashed, and numbered on 
the outside. The town is surrounded by a wall, and sur- 
mounted by a fortress. At a distance the appearaijce of the 
town is quite pleasing. The white houses, the gray walls and 
fortress, and the tall white spire of the church, make quite a 
striking contrast. A few fishermen's boats were lying at the 
wharf, and the lazy beggars were sunning themselves, lying 
on the hard cobble-stones, as we approached. Having landed, 
I went to the residence of the French consul, Mr. Romby, to 
whom I had a letter of introduction. He received me very 
kindly. But now the object of my mission seemed to be an 
absurd one. When I mentioned that there probably were the 
ruins of a church on the island, erected in the thirteenth cen- 
tury, people shook their heads. There were two churches, 
indeed, one called a cathedral; but one was wooden, and 
had a spire ; the other, a dingy-looking stone building, with a 
cracked bell. Mr. Romby, however, very politely walked out 
with me about the island, and explained all that he could of the 
history of the churches then existing. Outside the wall, how- 
ever, nearly a mile from the shore, we came upon the ruins of 
something, either a house or a church. The gentleman said 
it had been there ever since he had lived on the island. He 
knew not, and had never cared to inquire, what it originally 
was. This, he said, was the only ruin on the island, except 
an old Roman wall and two deep wells, both of which we 
examined. At some distance from this spot were the remains 
of an old catacomb. Thinking that possibly this might be 
the ruins I was in search of, I made two sketches of it for 
you, that you might consider the matter yourself. There 
are reasons why this might have been the church known as 
the " Ecclesia Novorutn Innocentium.^'' First, Because it 
stood entirely by itself, no habitation being within twenty rods 
of it, and is on a slight eminence. Second, The building 



APPENDICES 239 

jEaces directly east, if we may consider the standing wall as the 
place of the altar ; and this is probable, as it had a high 
window and no door. Third, The stones were quite large 
and irregular at the base, and smaller as they approached the 
top. Fourth, It had not the appearance of having been re- 
stored, since the ground was strewed with stones and debris. 

The inhabitants of the island are a mixture of the Genoese 
and Italians. Coral fishery and the catching of the tunny 
are the chief employments of the men : the women cultivate 
the fields. Northward from the Island of San Pietro are two 
smaller islands, which from the shores of Sardinia appear to 
be but parts of the island itself. On these islands are several 
houses ; and here are the peculiar nets placed for catching the 
tunnies, which are taken in the summer months only. 

I regret that I cannot give you a photograph of the island 
or its buildings. I was promised some by a brother of the 
consul, who was an amateur photographer, but never received 
them. 

This is about all the information I can give you of the 
Island of San Pietro and the Church of the New Innocents. 
I was obliged to return that same afternoon to Iglesias, and 
could not spend more time on the island. 

Very truly yours, 

Newton Perkins. 

It will be seen that Mr. Perkins thinks that the 
edifice he saw was the Church of the New Inno- 
cents. The argument seems so conclusive that I 
have not hesitated in claiming that it was. It is 
briefly thus : — 

Three hundred years ago, in the middle of the 
sixteenth century, Albericus said that the church 
was still standing, and still resorted to as a shrine. 
It continued to be so for some time after, we do 



240 APPENDICES 

not know how long, but let us allow fifty years. 
Therefore the church was entire up to about 1600. 

After this, there were no inhabitants upon San 
Pietro until 1737, when the colonists under Taglia- 
fico landed. Yet they find, upon landing, a church, 
and wonder at it, on an uninhabited island. What 
they found must have been that which was stand- 
ing in 1600, for there was no population in the 
interval to build any edifices, and there never had 
been any before, except those sent by the Pope to 
erect the monument and shrine of the children. 

Now, Smythe saw the same edifice that the col- 
onists found j he was there fifty years ago, and the 
people pointed it out to him as having been dis- 
covered by Tagliafico and his followers, and as 
having, as they supposed, given the name to the 
island. He saw this structure when it was less 
dilapidated than now, and says it was a church. 
Furthermore, the edifice of which Mr. Perkins 
speaks is the same one that Smythe describes, and 
thus all the links seem found to identify this lonely 
ruin with the Church of the New Innocents, built 
six hundred years ago. 

I wish here to acknowledge my indebtedness to 
the value of Mr. Perkins's kind cooperation, and my 
regret that owing to haste I omitted to do so in the 
first edition. 

The engraving at the beginning of this book is 
from a sketch made by Mr. Perkins. 



APPENDICES 241 



APPENDIX C 

This is a quotation from the " Anonymous Rhyth- 
mical Chronicle," given with the errors in Latinity 
uncorrected. It seemed a curious and fitting opening 
for the book, being a resume of the event, although 
it only mentions the leader of the German children. 
Having been advised to do so, I give a translation 
that is quite literal, and in which I have imitated 
the original in ending the lines of each section with 
a uniform rhyme. It will be readily seen that there 
was no poetical charm to be imperiled by transla- 
tion, for it is merely a metrical narrative. The only 
trace of poetry is the license taken in the enumera- 
tion of the nationalities, for that is greatly exag- 
gerated : — 

3l^uBr* Behold the pilgrimage of the children, and how they 

were deceived by incantations : 
In the times of which we 're speaking, a stupendous thing 

arose, 
And grew upon the earth as a wondrous poison grows. ,*--* 
Because its mien was fair, the more it spread its woes, 
And throve by arts of darkness that only magic knows. 
Mu5r» This is the song that was everywhere sung : 
Nicholas, Christ's servant, will surely cross the main, 
And, leading little innocents, Jerusalem attain. 
Dry-shod he '11 safely tread the sea, while waters rage in vain, 
And youths and virgins fair unite in chaste affection's chain. 
Such things will he at once achieve, and God will honor gain ; 
Baptizing faithless pagans too, where other hosts have slain ; 
And all, within Jerusalem, shall raise this happy strain. 



.1^ 



242 APPENDICES 

By little ones will Christ bring peace, without the battle's 

pain, 
To glorify whom He redeemed by His own blood's red stain. 
And give, at last, to every child, a crown, as king to reign. 
I^ufir. Such devotion was never heard before. 
All ears do listen eagerly, and even girls grow bold. 
They preach to those of sixteen years, and few are e'en so old. 
The boys compete with eagerness that they may be enrolled, 
They break away, and, if restrained, are not to be consoled. 
Hungarian, Teuton, Frank alike, does this delusion hold ; 
Bohemian and Lombard too, nor is the Breton cold. 
From Flanders and Westphalia, the bands like billows rolled ; 
The Frisian and Norwegian join as did their sures of old — 
With itching foot and eager eye. Foes hunt them, though, 

for gold. 
The people of old Brindisi treat them with shame untold ; 
And in the lowest dens of vice, the girls as slaves are sold. 
Grief takes the place of joy in homes, and many knells are 

tolled ; 
Mothers, like Rachel, mourn the young whom death's cold 

arms enfold. ^ 

Thus sadly children are deceived when lying tales are told. 



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